Daggers of Ice
by whitedove4
Summary: It was barely a glimpse – startling eyes the colour of fresh spring leaves met his from across the room. Those very same eyes widened, her fists clenching at her sides. He'd met girls before who'd turn their heads and pretend they were interested in the hope that it would interest him. But those emerald eyes had widened in something akin to recognition…and fear.
1. Chapter 1

_**Not sure how longs it's going to be…we'll just see how it goes :) Read and Review my lovelies! **_

**Chapter 1**

Edmund sat in his chambers, a scowl upon his face, glaring at the mask that sat on his dresser. Another formality, another useless display of wealth. Another opportunity for the useless air-heads that called themselves women to throw themselves at him.

Damn Susan and her love for parties.

The _mask_ was lovely, onyx and diamond embedded in the delicate metal lattice-work. But it was not him. The Just King let out another frustrated growl, tugging a hand through his dark locks. At twenty years old he was already sick of women and everything they represented.

"Ed," Peter's voice was deep, it enthralled the ladies easily, but in that moment it was resigned. His summer blue eyes watching from behind the intricate lion's mask. The perfect completion for his scarlet and gold tunic. The very image of the noble King. Peter the Magnificent. "Your thoughts show in your eyes."

Edmund shook his head, strapping his sword to the belt he never left behind. It paid to be prepared.

…..

Lady Arianna did not smile, her face hidden by the delicate mask as Cair Paravel rose like a beacon in the distance.

"Keep your head about you, Ari," it was a warning he had given her many times before. And he would for years. He did not agree with her coming that night. Though she highly doubted they would notice until a spy whispered to them in the dark of the night. King Edmund the Just would not miss a thing.

The dwarf by her side was looking at her; watching her as closely as a hawk would a mouse. But she was not the prey. She could feel everything changing around her: subtly was discarded, thrown away on the wind. She could see all the plans falling into place; plans that had been in place for centuries.

She glanced at the dwarf who had once been in the White Witches army; one who had been her teacher; her mentor.

She shook her head, the steps of her horses steady and even. A constant in the magical land that was called Narnia. She did not smile; but schooled her eyes into merry emeralds; shining like the stones they so perfectly mimicked but betraying none of her thoughts.

She would speak with High King Peter the Magnificent of Narnia before it was too late. She would move in the shadows. They would not find her to kill her. Not yet.

…..

The hall was shimmering with a multitude of torches, hung from strands of silver that were strung across the pillars. Upon closer inspection he could see they were crystal balls, with flames flickering inside them. Creatures of all manner flitted smoothly around the small round tables that had been set up near the walls of the hall. The tinkling sound of the waterfalls underlapped everything, giving the hall a peaceful atmosphere. The musicians played a light tune, the flutes and string instruments wound a delightful melody that floated about the room.

Susan had really outdone herself this time.

But Edmund watched the festivities with a scowl upon his face, not moving from his throne even when the beautiful ladies of the Court surged forward, those braver than the rest. He could hear Peter laughing boisterously, females giggling in return. He let his eyes scan the room once more, ever searching for a threat.

Never was he at ease.

It was barely a glimpse – startling eyes the colour of fresh spring leaves met his from across the room, hidden behind a golden mask. Those very same eyes widened, her fists clenching at her sides. And then she was gone; disappearing in the throng of dancing couples. He'd met girls before who'd turn their heads and pretend they were interested in the hope that it would interest _him_. But those emerald eyes had widened in something akin to recognition…and fear.

It was that and nothing else that caused him to rise from the throne and seek her out. That and nothing else. It had nothing to do with the tempting curls of her lips as they parted slightly, r the shimmering silk curtain of her hair, or the soft golden hue of her skin.

She was fast, almost too fast. But he knew she was human. Even at a distance he had seen the dusting of small freckles across her delicate nose.

…..

Ari wove through the revelries, through the wide open doors that lead to the balcony and the sweeping stairs that descended into the picturesque gardens. Her lungs were tight in her chest, her breath coming in audible pants. She could feel him following her as she ran through the tranquil paths, lined with lovely blossoms. Flames flickered along the bath, in tall torches that cast small patches of warm colour over the moon-bleached flowers.

Dread stole through her, as he followed like a shadow in the dead of night.

She'd not expected one so young, or so handsome. She'd seen the paintings of him – dark and regal. She had not expected someone but a few years older than herself.

Her heart beat faster in her chest.

The knives strapped to the insides of her wrists burnt like cold fire. Like the chilly kiss of winter it sent icy shivers through her body.

And then she was slammed against the tree, her wrists pinned above her head, the rough bark digging into her stomach. Fear gripped her. Her attacker did not speak but she knew it was him, she could feel his warm breath blossoming over her cheek, over her neck. She could feel his large hand sliding across her waist, across her shoulders and arms, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Chasing away the coldness within.

_Plink._

_Plink._

_Plink._

One by one the daggers fell to the ground, shimmering icy blue in the moonlight.

Then she was spun around, looking up into his face. The mask discarded, she could see every handsome plane, those dark dark eyes boring into her own. Unbidden a shiver ran through her. She could see why Jadis had wanted him. That dark hair looked heavenly to the touch, his skin soft, his hands rough.

"Who sent you?" that low, deadly growl sent shocks straight through her.

…..

She would have been Peter's type, with those wide eyes and small heart-shaped face. Those lips that were oh so tempting. But he could see past that, he could see the wry strength in those lithe limbs, the concealed tension, hidden by volumous sleeves and lace. She moved with the grace of a born warrior. Her hair, as pale as starlight, shimmered around her like a halo.

The glittering silver daggers that lay in the grass were oddly familiar, but he knew he'd never seen her before. He would have remembered her.

"So, Knight of Narnia, what are you going to do with me?" her voice was soft and melodious, her expression demure. His every instinct screamed at him to protect her. But his instincts had been wrong before.

"Who sent you?" he repeated, his patience wearing thin. He knew the moment he released his hold she would flee, disappearing into the night like a wraith. "You weren't on the guest list."

"I should have been," her voice, haughty and aloof, sent a shudder of cold straight to his heart. _No…_

He glanced back to those daggers. "Jadis…"

Her eyes glanced up to meet his intense ones. A smirk played on her lips. _Your close, _those eyes seemed to tell him. "Close," the woman laughed, her emerald eyes almost mocking. He imagined if she could she would have bowed mockingly, sweeping her skirts out. "Arianna of Charn, at your service. _Just _King."

"Impossible," he breathed, staring at woman before him.

The colouring was all wrong. But it was her face; the expression, the posture.


	2. Chapter 2

_***Disclaimer: not mine **____** I own only the plot and Arianna of Charn. **_

_**Dedicated to the lovely Allie Danger, my first official reviewer (lots and lots of love to you) **____** all your question shall be answered in time **____** Also I should mention this is going off the movie; so I apologise profusely if it clashes with anything that is in the books about Narnia's Golden Age…So enjoy my lovelies! **_

_**Ages (eleven years after the events of the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe):**_

_**Peter: 24, Susan: 23, Edmund: 21, Lucy: 19, Arianna: 19**_

**Chapter 2**

Edmund stared at the too-pretty girl from across the room; unable to look away from those enchanting emerald eyes. Too perfect to be real. Who knew what sinister thoughts lay behind those beautiful eyes? What malicious intent?

Arianna of Charn.

He could see Lucy and Susan assessing the girl – or woman. How old was she? She looked to be no older than he, but that was not possible. For year since defeating the White Witch, the fake Queen of Narnia, they'd had a few problems with her followers, but none had stepped up to her mantle. None had raised an army; none had truly challenged their rule.

Eleven years was far too long for peace to last; it was the reason the wolves were on edge, they felt something was brewing.

And looking at the girl before him, he knew it had something to do with her. Those eyes were haunted, as if they had seen things far beyond her apparent age.

"Why have you come here?" it was Peter's voice that cut through the silence of the room, his mask long discarded, his warm blue eyes unusually hard.

Her laughter was a lovely sound, like the tinkling of bells, running through his mind like music. Perhaps she knew the effect; for the smirk that marked her lips seemed aimed directly at him.

"I merely seek an audience with you, Your Majesty," she said, her voice coy and demure. Oh yes, she was a very good actor.

Female or not, Edmund wanted to break every bone in her body. To deal with the threat then and there. It was why Peter had ordered him to stand at the opposite side of the room to her. Though she was bound tightly, Edmund had no disillusions that she could escape – for it had taken everything in him to get her into the castle for questioning. The mottling bruise that covered her left temple was his work – knocking her out had been the only chance.

"Then why had you these daggers?" Peter's eyes were narrowed. In that moment he was the High King through and through; the carefree flirt was gone.

The daggers in question winked in the moonlight that shone through the curtains; like glittering ice they glared up at him mockingly. Perhaps they were made of glass, the smooth facets almost clear, but the edge was deadly sharp. He rubbed his hand absent mindedly across the small knick of his thumb where the blade had sliced through him willingly when he had picked it up. It was as if winters chill had made its home there; like frostbite, eating at him from the inside.

"Every lady needs protection, Your Majesty," her eyes were demure, her lips turned down slightly. He made no effort to disguise the snort that left him. The dark emerald of her bodice was a star contrast to the blacks and silvers of the room she was in. Edmund's own chambers; where he had bound her so none of the guests would see her.

…..

Ari could have laughed at the rage and deadly hate that swirled within the dark pits of Edmund's eyes. Really she could see why Jadis had wanted him for himself; as a young boy of only ten he had showed promise even back then. But he would not be so easily swayed; she could see that in his eyes. There was nothing childish about him now; she could see the warrior within him, ever trying to prove his worth, to make right the wrong he had committed so long ago.

And lords that black tunic did nothing to hide the well-built body beneath. The years had treated him well; no longer was he the scared little boy who had been easily manipulated by the promises of wealth and power.

She turned her gaze to his sisters. Queen Susan the Gentle; the name suited her well, for she could see nothing in those pretty blue eyes but thoughts of parties and frivolities, of men and romances. Skilled archer though she was, there was nothing fierce about the High Queen. She was stunningly beautiful, however, with full lips the colour of strawberries and long cascading locks of the darkest chestnut. No wonder bard's sung of her beauty all over Narnia. Ari resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"We thought Charn was destroyed," it was Queen Lucy who spoke, the youngest and truest of the humans. After the ball the queen had changed into a loose-fitting tunic and simple breeches. There was a fire that burnt bright in her grey-blue eyes; determination and loyalty. Her long auburn hair was tied in a simple pony-tail, her face free of the paint that other ladies of the Court seemed so fond of. In other circumstances perhaps they could have been friends.

"I wouldn't know, I have no memories of it," Ari did not lie; the Valiant Queen and the Just King would see through it in a moment. She had seen the once-beautiful city only in renderings, long-forgotten memories. The only gift that Jadis could have given her of her home. Though perhaps she could not call it home; for when the destruction of Charn had been wrought she had been naught but a child in the womb. It was that, and only that, which had saved her life.

That and Jadis; who had brought her into the world, slaving for years to get her heart to beat.

But the Pevensie children did not need to know that. All they needed to believe was that she was no threat.

…..

Lucy watched the girl, who looked to be the same age as herself. She saw more than the others. She could see the war within those emerald eyes; the conflict. But she felt her gaze drawn to those daggers; the daggers that she thought could end any of their lives. She'd seen the cut on Ed's palm, too deep, too unnatural for just a simple cut. And her healing cordial had done nothing for it.

Perhaps it was the way that her lithe body suddenly stiffened; or the way those golden brown hands clutched at the fabric of her skirts. But whatever it was caused Lucy's hand to fly to the sword at her side; her eyes narrowing, her body tense.

…..

Ari froze; she could feel it creeping at the back of her mind like a fog, seeking to cover everything with a blanket. Everything that was her.

Struggling in vain as the cold numbness spread through her body. And there was nothing she could do. She had agreed to this; she had entered it willingly knowing what would happen. She was a weapon; nothing more.

"Edmund, my dearest, come to me," she heard the words leave her lips, cold and winsomely charming. The voice that was not hers.

She had accepted her fate long ago.

She saw Edmund stiffen; his dark gaze narrowing, his hand flying to the sword at his side.

Soon Arianna would be no more. Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard a laugh; dark and sinister.

…..

He would know those eyes anywhere; for they had haunted his dreams for years even after the Battle of Beruna. Those eyes, cold and dark – too green, too hard.

It was the same colour but between one moment and the next they had changed. And somehow he knew it was no longer Arianna of Charn looking out at him from behind those eyes.

_Jadis…_


	3. Chapter 3

_***Disclaimer: not mine **____** I own only the plot and Arianna of Charn. **_

**Just a heads up, this chapter is a bit graphic at the end! The rating is becoming apparent! **

**Chapter 3**

He would know those eyes anywhere; for they had haunted his dreams for years even after the Battle of Beruna. Those eyes, cold and dark – too green, too hard.

It was the same colour but between one moment and the next they had changed. And somehow he knew it was no longer Arianna of Charn looking out at him from behind those eyes.

_Jadis…_

He knew it was the White Witch that was looking at him; it was her laugh that left those full lips. He could feel the shock emanating from his siblings. But it was he who moved first, drawing his sword in a fluid motion. The steel kissed her neck, like the gentlest touch of a lover.

She did not stiffen in fright, merely looked up at him calmly through those long lashes. His heart pounded in his chest, heavy and loud. Fear and anger resonated within him. "What do you want, witch?"

"I could make you a king Edmund, a true king," her voice was a whisper, enveloping him with charm and empty promises. He would not fall for it a second time. She was a fool to think otherwise. But that voice touched something deep within him and his grip of her bare shoulder tightened. In the back of his mind it only barely registered that her skin was cold, far too cold. "Join me once more; be my King. Lead my army like you were born to do." That smooth voice sought to enrapture him; tangling him in her web of deception.

There was no doubt in his mind that it was Jadis who spoke to him, though he did not know how. For the witch was dead; he had seen her die himself. "My place is here," the words were so easy to speak and he watched as a trickle of blood dripped down her collarbone. He knew that without a doubt that more blood would be spilt.

Her emerald eyes did not harden in anger, as he'd expected them to. Instead she laughed once more. "You are a fool, Edmund Pevensie."

…..

Arianna clenched her fists at her sides, almost glaring at the icy mirror before her – icicles fanning inwards over the transparent wall. There was nothing else but the creeping fog that clung to her feet, her lovely fur-lined boots standing on nothing but a thin layer of ice that seemed as corporeal as sunlight.

It was not herself she saw reflected within the icy depths; no it was a woman tall and unearthly beautiful. Quite the opposite of her own slight form, the woman before her was over seven feet tall – as all royalty of Charn was said to be. With skin as pale as paper, and hair the colour of starlight. The woman was enchanting – the kind that would make men do whatever she pleased.

"You have failed me, Arianna," her voice held none of its false warmth, her eyes were as icy as the season she held dominion over. With her grown of glittering ice and her pristine white gown, it was obvious to Ari as to why she had been named the White Witch.

But she did not let the icy tone affect her; she merely shrugged her shoulders. "Your memories of him are not correct," she said simply. She did not need to elaborate; for rage flashed through the sorceress's eyes.

She knew that the sorceress coveted the Just King; she had seen it in her mind. But the Edmund within the witches mind was older; dark and handsome. A promise of what could be. It was foolish. But at the same time Ari could not begrudge her of it, for there was something intriguing about the one they called dark king with eyes as dark as night, so different from his siblings.

"You are not meant to be distracted by him," she felt rather than saw those hard emerald eyes narrow at her. Dwarfed by the gaze, she did not look up to the mirror, instead choosing to look down at the leather boots and sifting mist. The smoky tendrils drifting around her legs, disappearing into the vast darkness that surrounded her. "The dark within him calls to you."

She made no effort to deny it; for Jadis could easily sift through her mind. She was no fool to lie to the witch she had known her entire life. And who had been inside her mind for half of it. It had been Jadis's ghostly hand that had pushed her when Narnians were found wandering into their lands, it was her influence that brought the knife down.

The image of crimson splashing across soft white snow danced around them, within her mind.

Yet she felt no remorse. No regret.

Nothing.

"You will not fail me this time," Jadis said, the threat obvious in her tone.

Arianna bowed her head. "Yes, your Majesty."

…..

"She's waking!"

Edmund wanted to throttle Susan in that moment for stating such an obvious thing. He had expected her eyelids to flutter open slightly, for her to pause for a moment as she got her bearings.

But that would have been too easy.

Emerald eyes snapped open and then she was on her feet, the rope holding her falling uselessly to the ground. She snarled, her fang-like canine teeth bared, her eyes flashing dangerously. Whether she was Jadis or not, Arianna was dangerous.

Susan screamed as she moved, as fast as lightning. But Edmund moved with her, blocking the door with nothing but his body. He watched as Peter moved behind her, his own sword in his grip.

"Sorry, dearest Edmund," he could see the grin on her face, the cocky expression. He would have killed her with his bare hands, but he saw Peter's slight shake of the head. They needed her for questioning. "But I must depart."

A shift of feet, the slight tensing of lithe muscles.

He was not fast enough; she slipped through his grasp like a wraith.

"Sound the bells!"

…..

Ari glared at the man in her way; the alarm bells clanging through the night air. The edge of his sword shone malevolently as he twirled it with careless abandon. But she said nothing as she gripped the sword she had taken from the guard that now lay in the broom covered, his throat cut open. A sword was not her preferred weapon, but her daggers lay in Edmund's room.

His foot twitched slightly.

Her muscles tightened and she leapt heavenward in the time that he had blinked. His sword slashed through the air where her body had been but a moment before. His growl coursed through her, her veins alight with the thrill as she landed deftly, rolling and leaping backwards as he slashed again.

Her body seemed to bend in half as she bent backwards, landing on her hands and flipping up into a handstand. Her foot slashed out as she flipped, connected with his jaw with a satisfying crack. He stumbled backwards as she landed perfectly on her feet in a crouch. Sword held before her, she smirked slightly. Idly she wondered if Edmund was watching.

Their swords clashed; metal against metal. The sound seemed to match the beating of her heart as they moved, almost melodious. His snarl was wild, feral. There was no madness in his eyes, only the wish for her blood. He did not underestimate her. She met his blow, bringing them hilt-to-hilt. There was nothing cocky in her eyes as she landed her foot on his chest, and kicked him forcefully.

He coughed; the blood like ink in the moonlight as it dripped from his mouth. He smirked, striking again. His blade grazed across her thigh, slicing through leather and flesh, blood welling and falling to the ground. Not a sound left her lips as she pressed the attack, ducking to evade his kick. She rolled along the ground, pivoting quickly to meet his blow, her arm stopping the blade, biting deep into her flesh, scraping the bone. He grinned.

"You look just like her you know," his tone was mocking, sapphire blue eyes hard. Before he could blink she swung her sword around.

His moan of agony pierced the air as she jumped backwards, the blood flowing freely from her wound as she gripped her sword. His face was twisted into shock as he fell forward, his legs standing for a moment before they too crumpled, severed from the rest of his body.

She wiped her sword on the grass, looking up as another entered the clearing. She barely batted an eyelid at the intense pain as she stood, tying a leather thong around the wound.

She turned to see the dwarf emerge from the shadows; grim-faced and stony. "We must go north. They will be close behind us."

They fled into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

_***Disclaimer: not mine **____** I own only the plot and Arianna of Charn. **_

**Two chapters in one day **** you guys are oh so lucky **

**Chapter 4**

Edmund growled, pacing his room, unable to believe she had escaped. Killing seven of their men in the process; killing them as easily as if she had been slicing through butter not human, centaur and faun flesh. Whenever he closed his eyes it was emerald eyes he saw – bold and defiant. _Her _eyes. Not Jadis's.

Though the line blurred within his mind; how much of her was the witch or were they one and the same? He did not delude himself into thinking that it had been the witch in control of her body when she'd chopped his men up. For Jadis had never been one for close combat – she preferred the occult arts.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the dark locks.

He could not understand why she had been afraid of him; why she had fled upon seeing him. Why she had been in Cair Paravel to begin with. Why she became Jadis, or why Jadis became her. There were too many questions; too many possible answers.

Those beautifully crafted daggers looked up at him from their position on his bedside table; their ice-like facets glinting in the moonlight. She had not meant to leave them behind; he had seen her eyes dart frantically towards them before she ran through the door and disappeared into the darkness. The shadows had embraced her as if she were one of them.

"You're going to worry yourself sick you know," Lucy told him from her position on the chair by the window. Though the moon was high she did not wear her night gown, opting instead to don her favourite breeches and cotton shirt, much like his own. Even bleached of colour he could see the concern in her eyes. She was as troubled as she; she just hid it better.

"I don't understand why Pete won't let me go north," he growled, falling back on his bed, looking up at the silver canopy. Of all his siblings, Lucy was the one he got on with the best with. She seemed to understand him, despite him being horrible to her when they were younger.

"You forget Edmund, but the White Witch knows you," Lucy said.

"She does not know me _now_," the daggers were ever-bright beside him. Something within him was pulling him north, to the witch's country. Whether it was magic or curiosity, he did not know. But he did not care. He had to know what was going on; he had to protect Narnia from the witch's army. From Arianna and Jadis.

Another shudder ran through him at the thought of Arianna; at the feel of those slender shoulders beneath his fingertips. At the challenge she had posed whilst fighting him.

"We need to know what's happening," he said softly. Peter was wrong; they were a threat. He could feel it. It was not just a few of the witch's supporters like it had been for years – it would be a full scale attack. "I can't just stay here and do nothing."

Then Lucy's hand was on his shoulder. "Take care, Ed. I don't want anything to happen to you." _Not again_, her eyes said.

…..

Arianna cocked her head to the side; regarding the minotaur that kneeled before her with a bland expression. Her finger tapped the ice throne, the vast expanse of the hall sweeping before her. Filled with more and more creatures who sought to join her army.

"My lady," the creature's voice was a low rumble, lower than any humans. "I would serve you to my dying breath."

"And that is what you told Jadis," she said; her voice as cold as the icicles that decorated the ceiling. The ceiling of the castle that had been hers for eleven years. "And yet you fled at the Battle of Beruna. I know you, minotaur. I know your kind."

He growled. "You will lead us to victory."

She dismissed them with a wave, rising from the throne in an elegant movement of long sweeping skirts and white furs. The pale emerald train trailed behind her like a cloak; the furs purely for decoration. She did not feel the cold of the eternal winter that surrounded them.

The nodded idly to the dwarves that bowed to her as she made her way through the winding corridors – an endless maze of crystal corridors.

But those corridors she knew by heart.

…..

Lucy tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. There was something wrong, something more sinister afoot than a mere possession. The witch would be capable of that; but she had been killed. So perhaps another had been acting in her stead. She refused to believe it was Arianna, for she had seen good within the girl. She wished Aslan was there for her. So she prayed.

…..

She looked at herself in the mirror; at the reflection that looked back at her. She looked every image the hard Empress; from the beautiful dress that hugged her body to the glittering ice crown upon her head.

The army that Arianna had amassed for her had grown considerably; perhaps larger than her own original army had been. It would not be long before they were ready to take back Narnia from the humans who dared take the rule she deserved. An Empress without an Empire was what she had been when she came to Narnia. But she was born to rule; so she took what she deserved.

It had taken awhile to grow used to the small body of the girl; her mind had been easy to control, so young and tender. The child she had raised from birth, who adored her. Who had been so willing to please.

She did not know how many had fallen beneath Arianna's blade and she did not care. The girl did her job well. She had been trained as the perfect vessel in the off chance that she would be killed.

But of late her control had been slipping – as Arianna grew weary of battle after battle. The girl was no longer tightly under her control. She could no longer see everything through her eyes.

The girl had learnt that by cutting of her emotions she could close her mind.

Jadis laughed; the sound so lovely coming from Arianna's mouth.

…..

Edmund shivered, pulling his cloak tighter about his body as he trekked through the snow. He knew the way to the witch's castle, where he knew Arianna would be. Though eleven years had passed the way was imprinted deep within his mind. It was the memory he could not shake no matter how hard he tried.

He gritted his teeth against the cold. Even after her death the winter had not left her palace.


	5. Chapter 5

**Alright my lovelies, the next chapter is up **** As always reviews are greatly appreciated. I plan to update every day or two days…so enjoy **

**Chapter 5**

"You know the rules of the castle Edmund," her voice sent a cold shiver down his spine, stealing through his body like a mist.

Emerald eyes, set beneath a diadem of glittering ice regarded him. She looked almost out of place in the witch's castle, with her golden brown skin and dark locks, in a bleak place where everything was monochromatic silvers, blue and whites. But that same lithe frame, such a polar opposite to what Jadis's had been, was clothed in furs of the purest white, lining a dress of the palest emerald. Silver encircled her hips; winking in the light cast by the crystals that shone on the walls.

He had not expected her to be seated upon the throne, with the creatures that had so devoutly followed the witch bowing at her feet. Nor had he expected the relief when he realised it was not Jadis who addressed him.

Though perhaps another could have been fooled. "I know, Arianna," he said, almost smirking at the hiss that ran through her subjects. Though to her credit, Arianna simply raised a single brow.

Yes, he knew the rules as well as any. For he had been taken by the enchantment upon the glistening walls that resembled diamonds; it held one who walked within freely as captive, released only when the white witch released them.

Back then he had been but a mere boy, full of anger and rage, blindly stepping into the trap.

He looked up at Arianna once more. Perhaps that was why she had stayed, bound by the witch's death to serve her. He would discover the truth of it.

"You may wander of your own will, Edmund Pevensie, but you cannot leave these grounds," she sounded far older than her age; though did not show it.

He was dismissed with a wave of her hand.

…..

The river, murky and dark, was steadily flowing; the debris that appeared flowed on quickly. Peter felt himself pale as she watched the river and what floated past her. The corpse, rotting and deathly pale, had half of its face taken off. Something had begun to eat away at the soft flesh, the long wet strands of hair indicated that the body may have been female once – but the body, still submerged, gave no indication of race or gender. He bit his lip and the sharp tang of blood filled his mouth, unable to look away as another corpse drifted past, along with the hindquarters of a horse.

Never before had he been so glad that he had convinced Lucy to stay at Cair Paravel for their routine scouting mission through the forest.

"It's from further upstream," a voice said softly behind him. Peter tore his gaze away from the decomposing hand that bobbed up and down. Asure too was looking at the river, yet there was nothing horrified about her gaze, as if she saw such carnage every day. Her eyes were dead, so blank that Peter turned, his eyes on the river once more, unable to look at the Captain of his guard. The water nymph.

"What happened? It looks like a massacre," Peter breathed, gripping the reigns tightly as Arod shuddered beneath him. The soft wind had a chilly bite to it and raised bumps across his flesh. His golden hair caressed his face gently as he pulled his cloak tighter, the soft material doing little to comfort him.

To Peter's surprise those ocean blue eyes widened, almost with fear. Following her gaze Peter felt his heart freeze in his chest. It was a small body that floated past, no longer than his forearm. "No," the strangled cry left Asura's throat as she heaved, the contents of her stomach pouring onto the ground.

The stench of decomposing flesh mixed with the smell of rotten fish was enough to make the human retch, his stomach heaving.

Then he saw the weapon sticking out from one of the corpses; black and crude. A make that he was familiar with. The weapons of the white witch's army.

Who's supposed leader Edmund had left to find.

"His Majesty will be fine," the nymph said, reading him like an open book, her voice weak. Even as Captain of the Guard in Edmund's absence, she had not seen such mutilations before. She had not fought in the Battle of Beruna.

Peter nodded tightly, his hand unconsciously brushing the hilt of his sword. Arianna of Charn would pay.

…..

She tilted her head to the side, regarding the handsome king with a bland expression. She could not lose control, she would do this herself.

He wore his customary blacks and silvers, like a shadow or a wraith. But he could not slip into the shadows within the castle; for it was her domain. She saw everything.

"Quit staring at me." His voice was a growl, looking up to meet her eyes. Those dark orbs went a shudder straight through her though she was proud it did not show. The dwarf that stood by the door was scowling at the human, his small eyes narrowed in consternation.

"I will do what I wish," her voice did not falter. "You forget yourself, Edmund. Here I rule."

She could see him weighing her words, trying to glean any second meaning from them. She knew why he was there and he made no effort to deny it. He would try to find out her plans and try to stop her before she destroyed Narnia. Before she and Jadis destroyed Narnia.

And Empress needed an empire to rule; the Narnians were just unfortunate that Jadis had chosen their peaceful little country.

…..

Edmund followed her in silence as she swept through the silent halls, watching her like a hawk. She had not yet asked about her daggers, though he suspected she would. Maybe they were some sort of magical artefact, like the White Witch's sceptre had been before he broke it. It was for that reason that he had left them inn Cair Paravel.

He felt drawn to her, like a moth to the flame. And not in the way Jadis had enchanted him. There was nothing magical about Arianna, there was no sirens call.

She became another entirely when before her subjects. Like Peter, she became the ruler they needed. He thought, perhaps, that she was not as cold and unfeeling as she would have them believe. For he had seen fire within her that night he had captured her at Cair Paravel.

Perhaps she was a simple puppet?

…..

There were no windows in the room, but lovely tapestries lined the walls, depicting scenes of ethereal beauty. The city of Charn, beautiful, stunning.

And no longer.

Arianna turned, keeping her eyes on the figure that sat hunched in the chair as if the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders. His sapphire eyes held no light, his staff lay forgotten at his feet. Jenari did not look up as she entered the room, an imposing figure with the train of her gown trailing behind her, Edmund close to her shadow.

_No, _the single word tore through her mind and she clutched Edmund's arm to right herself, digging her nails into his soft skin. _No. Please, no. _But she said nothing, she could not find her voice as she felt her heart constrict. She felt as if some part of her had been torn away. She felt Edmund's eyes on her and just as quickly she let go of his arm, her eyes hard.

"Jenari, where is Myria?" She kept her voice even, like a steady snowstorm that could catch many unawares.

Jenari turned his empty eyes to her though she knew he was not truly seeing. "It was easy to catch the Narnian village unawares, they had very little fortifications," his voice was empty, each word cutting through her like one of her own knives. "But one got a lucky shot."

He stood then, something within him snapping. She was deaf to the wail that left the dwarf's lips, but she felt the thud as he fell to the floor. Jenari towered over her, his eyes blazing.

"I always loved her, _Queen_ Arianna," he spat. "And I broke her heart. I know I did. You, who knew her best of all, never treated me any differently though. Are you so cold that you can watch your best friend suffering in silence, forced to become something she's not? Was it on your persuasion that she go on that stupid mission? Rather than going yourself?" His hands shook, but still Arianna did not speak. Her emerald eyes were empty and distant, not even glancing at him as his voice rose. "You are as unfeeling as the winter you so perfectly control, dear _Queen_. You sent your best friend to death."

Her fist connected with his jaw, eyes ablaze as she stood over him. Lightning cracked in the sky behind, her slender silhouette outlined. "Do not think that I am not suffering, Jenari. I loved her as well as you. She did not suffer in silence, I was there for her. It was I who helped her. Do not dare accuse me of not caring for her. You are free to leave anytime."

Jenari did not say another word as she turned her back from him. She heard the click of the door as it shut behind him. She wanted nothing more than to fall to the ground, with tears streaming down her cheeks. Whimpers escaped her lips, pitiful and weak, but she could not stop them. Edmunds arms encircled her, a fleeting offer of comfort.

Did he not know that she had ordered the death of perhaps over a hundred of his subjects?

***also I was wondering what you all think of Arianna's character, because let's be honest not all OCs work and I wanted to do something different rather than a normal human girl coming to Narnia. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Alright my lovelies, the next chapter is up **** As always reviews are greatly appreciated. I plan to update every day or two days…Also the mistake in the last chapter is fixed, because Edmund was not meant to cry! He's tough **

**Chapter 6**

Edmund glanced out of the window, a scowl upon his lips as he looked out over the never ending fields of ice. The nights had grown longer, the days colder as true winter settled over Narnia. And still he was no closer to finding out what Arianna of Charn was planning. It had become a game of sorts between them; she would drop subtle hints that would have him searching the castle. Only to end up within a darkened room with nothing to look at but paintings which had been slashed through or set alight.

Paintings whose figures were a mystery to him as much as Arianna still was. Though she'd shown no weakness since that day that she found out of her friend's death. Her only friend. He thought perhaps in another time, in another place, he would have fallen in love with her; for he'd be daft to deny the attraction he felt for her.

Turning from the window he pushed himself off the seat, his legs taking him along the familiar path to the training grounds. He found himself wondering what the girl in question thought of him; for he had seen the barely concealed desire that shot through her emerald eyes.

And he was sure that it was not the witch's influence.

He did not know why he had comforted her that time; perhaps it was because she had seemed so small, so fragile and so utterly alone. Something he could empathise with. He had acted on instinct. And he did not regret it.

…..

Thud. Thud. Thud. The daggers hit the centre of the targets in quick succession as she twirled, her feet kicking up flurries in the snow. She could feel his eyes on her, though she could not yet see him. Perhaps he watched her from the parapets, or from behind the windows.

But she did not falter, her daggers flying from her hands. Swift and deadly.

He knew what she was capable of. There was no point in making herself appear weaker.

…..

Jenari glanced back at the castle, rising in the distance, almost lose against the white backdrop. Storm clouds loomed overhead, dark and threatening. He had passed the frozen lake; passed the wintery waste that Arianna ruled over. She had given him permission to leave.

She might not have meant to, but her words spoken carelessly in anger had relinquished the hold the enchantment held over him.

She had caused the death of his love.

He would make his way towards Cair Paravel and inform the High King of her plot. He did not delude himself into thinking that Arianna had revealed to him her entire ploy; but the dwarf who had acted as her guardian had a loose tongue when he had consumed far too much mead.

He would tell the High King of her treachery and how she kept his brother captive against his will. And the might of Narnia would fall upon the enchantress's head.

…..

Snow drifted through the air, kicked up by graceful movements. It was almost as if she were dancing; her daggers mere extensions of her body, the glass cutting through the air. Speed and dexterity rather than brute strength. There were no clouds in the sky to hinder the sun's rays which shone upon the glittering castle and the snow that had settled upon everything.

Edmund watched as she spun, her dark brows rising. Though challenge glittered in those emerald eyes. She was tensed; a perfectly balanced image of technical perfection. The knight could see that easily. And he understood she was challenging him when she grinned wickedly.

The sun upon her face turned it to the softest golden brown, so out of place in the wintery landscape. But she faced him with respect.

Then she darted forward.

Their bodies moved like a majestically orchestrated dance. One moved a foot, the other mirrored it. One struck out, the other dodged and retaliated. Like water they moved around the ring.

But he was aware of what she was doing. Pushing him back, moving him closer to the wall where he would be cornered. Silence surrounded them, only the sound of their ragged breathing and hits could be heard.

He twisted his body smoothly and watched her stumble slightly. Using this to his advantage, Edmund swooped down and shot out his leg. The limb caught the back of Ari's knee and she fell gracelessly. Growling, she glared up at him. He held out his hand, but she just pushed herself up and brushed herself off.

Giving a mental sigh, he shifted his body, ready for her next attack. As he moved and dodged he thought about the dark-haired beauty before him. Her catlike eyes were narrowed in concentration as she tried to hit him, her fists and feet a flurry of movement. To any outsiders it would merely look as if they were dancing. A dance that neither needed to think for.

Forcing himself not to smirk, Edmund quirked an eyebrow. Arianna's brows came down and she lunged at him, attempting to knock him to the ground. The male grabbed her left wrist and used the momentum to slam her against the wall behind him.

She gasped, her lips parting slightly as she glared at him. He watched her with dark eyes as she fought to catch her breath, her chest heaving beneath the leathers she wore, her head falling back against the wall.

She said nothing, but she looked up at him with those dark emerald eyes. Eyes that shone with an emotion he was sure echoed his own.

Without another thought he pressed his lips against hers. Hot against cold, insistent, demanding. Her low growl sent shivers straight through him and then his hands were in her hair, pulling her closer.

He was met with no resistance, her lips moving against his obligingly.

…..

Her head pounded within her chest, something akin to warmth spreading through her. It was almost as if her very veins were on fire. His lips were oh so soft against her own. And it felt so good. _So_ good to just let go, to let herself feel.

And it was Edmund she felt, his strong body pressed against her own, his hands surprisingly tender against her cheeks._ Lords_ above…

There were no coherent thoughts when she pushed herself closer to him. She needed him. The strong, troubled king who kept the darkness at bay.

And then she felt it; creeping along her mind.

_No!_

But she could not fight.

She never could.

…..

He was aware of the change the moment her nail dugs into his chest, claw-like and demanding. It was no longer seeking; it was taking.

"Yes," her voice was a cat-like purr, murmured between their lips. He thrust away, stumbling backwards slightly. The warmth that had suffused through his body was replaced with ice when he looked into those emerald eyes, half-lidded with desire. "Come back to me, Edmund."

He found no words to say; his mouth opening but nothing came out.

"It's me you want, not her," she whispered, the snow falling around them. The sky, once clear, was marked with rolling dark clouds. "I can give you the world."

"I don't want the world."

"Don't you?" she stepped closer. Those lovely lips turning upwards in that cruel smirk that he despised. "You wouldn't have to answer to anyone."

It was as if she saw into his very soul.

…..

"I had it under control," Ari growled, almost glaring at the ice-mirror before her where Jadis was seething. The White Witch's hands were clenched in fists at the sides of her white gown. She was livid.

"You did not!" Emerald eyes bore into her own. "You cannot escape this; you chose this."

Yes she did, but perhaps if she had not agreed at the tender age of eight she would have understood what the plan had meant. For herself and for others. For the hundreds of deaths she was responsible for.

"Your friend's death is regrettable," there was nothing sincere in her cold tone. Arianna paced before the mirror, wondering if her body had collapsed upon the snow. She did not feel cold. "But casualties are to be expected. It is why you make no ties."

Ari felt her eyes hardened. Perhaps it would have been better if the sorceress had never saved her life. Then Narnia would have been free of the White Witch forever. But she had never been able to say no to the woman who she owed her life to. "Yet you wish to make Edmund _your _King," she shot back. She watched with satisfaction as surprise flickered across the witch's timeless face.

"It is not me who is failing in this mission; you cannot seem to wage a simple war!"

Arianna snorted; unladylike. "Because that worked so well when you tried it. My methods are different to yours, but no less effective. I will draw them up here."

She could see the thoughts calculating behind the sorceress's emerald eyes. One plan had already failed. She had attended the masked ball in Cair Paravel with the intention of seducing Peter. Once alone with him it would have been easy to slide her blade between his ribs and disappear into the night. With their High King dead, the Narnians would have gone into mourning. Confused and adrift, their great country would have been easy for the picking.

But then she had seen Edmund. She had been assured that he would not be present; and it was because of his presence that her plan had crumbled around her.

But she had felt the shift in Jadis's attention the moment she had seen him.

"You will not fail me," the witch snarled.

"I will not."


	7. Chapter 7

**Longer chapter this time, it's starting to get into the main plot …lots of information shall be revealed…dun dun dun! Please review to tell me what you think**

**Chapter 7**

She saw him; alone and frightened. Little more than a boy; used as a mere tool. A son of Adam, perhaps two or three years older than herself. Never before had she seen a human, so she watched him from the shadows.

_When Adams flesh and Adams, sits at Cair Paravel in throne, the evil time will be over and done. ___

They were the words that the sorceress so feared. She could not help but be curious about the young boy who Jadis spoke about with such endearment and adoration. It was strange she thought: that Jadis would treat such a young creature with such cruelty. Arianna did not understand it. She did not hope to.

But it was no longer innocence in his eyes. He understood what it was he had done. He had betrayed his family, swayed by promises of wealth and power.

So she had watched him from the shadows. The young boy with sad brown eyes who was little more than a prisoner in the witch's castle. For he had entered willingly. He could not leave. Not until the witch freed him.

Her heart had reached to him when those full lips had trembled when he thought none were watching. She had watched, her heart beating too fast, wanting nothing more than to be able to hug him.

She had always been told that emotions were bad; that you weren't meant to feel them.

But she did in that moment. She could not help it.

…..

Peter looked down at the man who knelt before him, his summer blue eyes clouded. The man was as pale as parchment, his eyes as dark as the storm clouds that brewed overhead. Foreboding.

He wished Ed were there to advise him.

"Why should we believe what you say?" it was Lucy who spoke, her normally cheerful eyes narrowed at the man who was dressed in the heavy furs of the north. His starlight coloured hair shot out in every direction, flecked with miniscule snowflakes. His breath came heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Every moment your brother spends with her, her grip on him tightens!" the man, Jenari, burst out. "She will not let him go willingly."

"Do you speak of Jadis or Arianna?" Susan's melodious voice questioned. Resplendent in her gown of gold and crimson she stood, commanding the attention of all. She asked the question that Peter knew all three of them thought. At another time it would have been Ed who voiced their unspoken thoughts.

"It is impossible to tell where one ends and the others begins," his eyes were wide, almost frantic and Peter found himself doubting the man's sanity. "They are one and the same. Even when the Queen was alive, Arianna was her perfect little double. An unfeeling witch!"

Peter felt his brow rising, for surely during their brief encounter he had seen a foreign emotion spark in her emerald orbs. But if what the man said were true… "And you say she will attack Narnia directly?"

"She has amassed an army far larger than any you have seen. And she plans to attack next winter."

Peter ran a hand along his jaw, a frown on his face. He met Lucy's eyes first and then Susan's. Ed would know what to do. Without his intel they were flailing blindly in the dark. The only course of action he could see was a pre-emptive strike on the witch's castle.

…..

"I saw you once before," her voice was soft, reaching out across the vast expanse that was between them. Though in truth there was little more than a few meters.

In the light cast by the firelight he observed her. The slight flush over her face indicated that she'd consumed far too much mead, her head falling back to rest against the back of the chair. Her legs were stretched out before her, clad in leathers and fur-lined boots. Her steel daggers discarded on the table beside her. She looked almost…happy; her face aglow from the soft firelight. His eyes of their own accord dropped to her lips, remembering the soft feel of them beneath his own. So heavenly. Perhaps she was some kind of siren. With an inaudible groan he tore his gaze away, unable to stop the question that burst forth. "When?"

"When you came here with Jadis," her voice was distant. Perhaps that was who she was; simply closing herself off from the world. Though why he did not know.

Her words caused him to jolt, his heart hammering. He knew he would never be free of the witch; despite Aslan's sacrifice it weighed heavy upon his soul. There were many questions he wanted to ask her. Had she been here the whole time, locked away in the castle, plotting with the witch? Was she, too, a sorceress? The questions swirled through his mind as she lifted the silver goblet to her lips – so much like the one the White Witch had offered him so long ago – and tipped her head back. He settled with the one question that had plagued his mind for weeks. "Who is Jadis to you?"

Arianna opened an eye and he got the distinct impression of a wolf watching its prey, that single emerald eye looking at him as if she could see into his soul. And then she laughed. A tinkling sound at odds with her normal demeanour. Gone was the cold-faced warrior he had grown accustomed to since their shared kiss. She had kept her distance from him, never getting closer than a few meters. "My mind is too muddled, there is no fear of her taking control," perhaps she could read his thoughts, though her words did not quite make sense to him. He gripped his own goblet of wine as she uncurled herself like a cat stretching, resting her elbows on her knees. Those emerald eyes bore into his own. "How about this, Edmund Pevensie: I answer your questions if you answer mine."

"Call me Ed," the words slipped from his mouth, unbidden. But it was worth it to see the surprise that flickered in the leaf-green eyes before a smirk stretched across her lips.

"Alright, Ed. Call me Ari."

He wondered what one of his subjects would think if they had walked into the 'queen's' meeting chambers to see the two of them getting drunk together. A chuckle escaped him as he realised she had not truly answered his question. "What is so special about your daggers?" His hand rubbed subconsciously over the slight scar that had begun to form on his hand where the blade had cut into him.

She refilled her glass, every movement graceful and poised. As if she was born to be a queen. "They were a gift to me. The only thing I ever asked for." There was more to it, he could tell by the way her eyes clouded over slightly. She had not lied, but she had not told the entire truth. It was a skill she seemed to have.

…..

Lucy walked through the castle, her footsteps silent on the cobbled floors, guards nodding to her as she passed. Since the Just King's departure they had grown accustomed to her night-time wanderings. Her endless search for Aslan.

Hoping. Ever-hoping he would appear before her as f her mere thoughts could summon him. Though within her heart she knew that was not how it worked.

So instead of leaving the walls of Cair Paravel, Lucy changed direction. Almost surprised when she found herself before the doors of the great library. Perhaps it was Aslan's paws that guided her.

And in that instant she knew. They needed to find out exactly what they were facing.

…..

"Who was Myria?" at her sharp intake of breath he glanced back at her. Her lips were pressed in a tight line, her eyes closed almost in pain. He wanted to humanise her, he needed to know that she was not the same as Jadis who had felt merely hate.

"She was my friend," her voice was soft, a whisper in the night, almost lost in the wind that howled outside. "I have known her for as long as I remember. She felt when I could not."

As puzzled as he was he nodded, watching her carefully.

"Why did you betray your siblings?" she did not mince her words, and for some reason he found himself grateful. Others had danced around the topic, fearing his responses but curious to know. In a twisted way it was refreshing.

"I was angry and stupid," he said with a sigh, taking another drink, welcoming the burn it left down his throat. "And young. I was sick of Pete always telling me what to do; I was sick of Su always trying to be more grown up." And as if like magic it was as if a weight had been lifted from his chest.

…..

"Are you human?" the question, so soft, surprised her. She glanced into his dark eyes and realised that the question must have bothered him for some time. She took a delicate sip of the mead, letting it rest on her tongue for a moment before she swallowed. The liquor burnt a path down her throat and settled in her stomach. She let out a light giggle before deciding it was palatable and took another sip. She felt the effects almost immediately, the strange rush that came with it and the light-headed feeling that made the room sway before her eyes.

"I'm not sure," her answer was truthful. For she'd never had anyone to tell her; for Jadis did not dwell on the past. She knew that her kind, she and Jadis, were enchanting to humans; but did that make them something else? She was not quite like Jadis, she did not look the same – the same features yes, with their large eyes and full lips. But their statures were the opposite. The ability to perform magic ran deep in her blood, for she had control over the ice and waters around the castle. But many humans could perform such tricks in the marketplace. "Do you think I am something else?"

Her question was not what he had been expecting, she watched as his eyes widened slightly before his lips broke into a grin. She leaned forward, unable to help herself, drawn closer to him. She could count the small freckles that dusted across his nose, she could see the darker brown around the outer edge of his irises. She could almost feel the warmth of his breath on her face. It was not the dark within that drew her to him, her alcohol addled brain told her. It was him. _All_ of him.

Never before had she wanted anyone or anything to herself. Jadis could not have him.

She could not feel the witch within her mind. It was too chaotic in that moment for her to gain the control to even see through the younger woman's eyes. "I think you are whatever you want to be."

His reply, so casual, sent jolts through her body.

…..

Susan rounded the corner, a startled gasp leaving her mouth at the sight of her younger sister. The Valiant Queen was lying across the floor, books sprawled about her with no light but that cast by the single lantern at her side.

"Lu, what are you doing out of bed?"

The young queen started, before she turned her head slightly to view her sister. "I could ask the same of you."

With a drawn out sigh, Susan sunk to the floor, leaning her back against one of the library's many bookshelves. The air of the library was musty with the smell of dust and old parchment; rows upon rows of leather-bound books reached almost to the top of the dome-shaped roof. Books stacked precariously upon old oak shelves.

And it was one of the oldest books that Lucy was looking at, Susan could tell by the colour of the pages, the neat writing that scrawled across the page. "What are you reading?"

The same weariness that marked Lucy's face was on her own, she was sure. She would have to use creams in the morning. But they would not erase the worry that gnawed inside of her; their country on the brink of war and no word of their brother who was behind enemy lines.

"I'm trying to figure out how the witch is within Arianna's mind," Lucy said with a sigh. She had been forced to grow up far too early. "I don't think it's a simple possession. Somehow the witch is alive _within _her."

Of course Lucy would go straight to the heart of the problem. Anything to avoid the war that Peter believed impossible.

…..

Even with his brain buzzing pleasantly from the mead, he watched her carefully; unable to miss how she inched ever-closer. She could count the small dusting of freckles across her smooth skin, the way her long lashes cast shadows across her prominent cheekbones. Whether it was the mead or something else he found himself drawing closer to her.

And that was how they sat, with the table between them in their plush chairs, the fire crackling to mere embers as the pitcher of wine grew lower and lower. The chill of winter seemed so far away, though the snow-storm raged just outside the window. "Why don't you fight the witch?" he breathed.

He cursed as she drew back slightly, her eyes hardening. "I have tried. The only way to keep her from taking over is to feel nothing, as she taught me. Either way I become who she wants. Yet I serve her of my own free will."

Her admission surprised him; for she had answered far more than his original question.

"I owe her my life," she said softly, throwing caution to the wind as she downed the rest of her goblet; the world a hazy blur of smoke, snow and Edmund.

…..

She had tried to leave once, but had gotten only as far as the frozen lake before she'd felt the tugging. She'd tried to ignore it at first. Until she had taken that step too far.

Pain had sliced through her small framed. A crippling never ending agony that seared through her very being. She had collapsed, her small nails digging into her palms. Red, red blood dropped onto the snow. Splattering across as whimpers left her lips.

Then she remembered nothing but a soothing hand on her forehead, soft voices floating around her.

"What were you doing, child?" it was the closest Jadis's voice had ever come to caring, though it still contained a cold edge. But even at seven years old Ari had known Jadis cared for her in her own way, even if it was just as a tool.

She had not answered; instead tears had poured from her wide emerald eyes. She was asking for forgiveness. And Jadis seemed to have known, for she drew her into a tentative hug.

"Now you know not to disobey me."

Never had she forgotten that pain.

Whilst Jadis had been the cause of her pain she had saved her. The sorceress could have left her to die.

…..

"You know you really shouldn't drink."

She could feel Edmund by the goosebumps that erupted over her skin when he neared, and when he touched her arm she had to supress a shudder as lightning shot down her spine. She turned and offered the human a smirk, to see he was kneeling beside her chair. She fluttered her eyelashes demurely, looking the very picture of maidenly innocence. "Why ever not?"

He snorted, a slight blush covering his cheeks as he set down the goblet on the table. "You're as weak as a faun!"

She laughed, enjoying the free feeling that always eluded her, gazing into his dark eyes, her breath caught in her throat. It seemed inevitable that their lips should meet; warmth spread through her body like wildfire as her goblet fell to the floor. Almost hesitantly she brushed her lips against his; a delicious shiver running up her spine, her fingers playing in his short, dark locks. She tugged and he was beside her in the chair, limbs entangled with hers. Mahogany eyes were dark with desire, looking into her own when he pulled back slightly, his mouth opened slightly.

Inviting.

She pulled him towards her once more, feeling his larger hands on her upper arms, his mouth willing against her own and she could taste the mead he had consumed earlier. _Edmund…_a sigh left her lips when he pressed his lips in hot open-mouthed kisses along her neck and collarbone. Like liquid flame his lips left a trail of heat in their wake, his hands finding their way to her waist, pulling her atop him.

She felt his warriors hands, surprisingly tender, run along her sides, her thighs. She moaned softly as teeth nipped lightly, as his hands brushed against the curve of her breasts. Tantalising. Teasing.

Ari's hands wove through those short luscious locks, as soft as silk. Perhaps he too had consumed too much mead. In that moment she did not care. For Jadis could not interfere. With a smirk she pulled him closer, her hands finding the ties to his shirt easily.


	8. Chapter 8

**Aaaand the plot thickens… Some more explanations/ history in this one, hopefully things will become clearer as to how everything works. It's a bit morose…but necessary . Review my lovelies and tell me what you think :) I shant update until I get at least 5 ;)…without further ado I give thee…chapter 8! **

**Chapter 8**

She hissed in pain as one of the knives cut her cheek, and another her hip. The rest lodged uselessly in the mud at her feet. The mercenary hired by the High King was good. But she was better. She smirked and quickly, almost effortlessly flung a knife in his direction, imbedding itself in the icy wall by his side. She jumped up onto a ledge and swung herself up onto the roof. She prepared to attack once more, watching the man with calculating eyes.

He wore nondescript leathers, with a deep crimson cape with its hood up, casting his face into shadows. She could see the weapon holsters strapped to his wrists and about his waist. She could feel the hum of the needle-like daggers in his boots. He wore no markers or ornaments to indicate who he worked for, but the gold that clinked heavily in his pouch could have come from only those at Cair Paravel. She let a low growl escape her throat.

She sunk into a crouch, a knife in each hand, the others within easy reach strapped to the insides of her wrists. "Come on then," her teeth were bared, anticipating the fight.

The man turned on his heel and fled.

"Well now, y." She took chase. Her hard-soled boots made no sound as she ran.

The ice felt alive beneath her, slick with water from the heavy rain which assaulted everything. She flipped back her hood. The man was barely ahead of her now, but she could see the end of the roof ahead; he'd have nowhere left to run. She grinned slightly. The rain plastered her hair to her face, the sleek black tendrils curled about her chin and into her eyes.

It beat down upon her. She could feel the man's footsteps. He was the frantic prey, desperately trying to escape.

Arianna leapt, rolling as she hit the ground then stood, her movement's fluid as water. She flexed her fingers, watching the man as she knew he watched her.

The man snarled, leaping into the air, far higher than was normal.

She twisted and shot her arms out, flinging her power into the earth. Great slabs of ice shot up, rain dripping off the hard surfaces, glistening in the slight moonlight. The man twisted, desperately trying to twist out of the way, only to find his way blocked.

Arianna smirked and closed her fists, the ice closed about him, encasing his body. It would be so easy to close her fist just that little bit more; so easy to crush the life out of him. But she lowered her arms, the ice lowered, with the man still trapped.

She could hear his laboured breathing and she tilted her head to the side. He was now level with her height and she strode up to him, her eyebrows slanted downwards.

"Who do you work for?"

The man laughed; a hollow, empty sound. Arianna snarled and threw back his hood, grasping the hair at the nape of his neck and forced him to look at her, the rain pouring down on both of them.

The water gathered in her thick eyelashes, the droplets ran down her cheeks. The man stared at her, his dark red eyes clouded. She knew the effect she had on people, but she wasn't in the mood for games. Her soft lips parted slightly, revealing her sharp canine teeth, her eyes glittered wickedly as she released his head. She felt the man's pulse quicken as he watched her and she smirked slightly. _Yes, be afraid. Be very very afraid. _"Now I'll ask you again," Arianna moved closer to him, their faces inches apart. Surely he had not expected the white witch's protégé to fight back with anything other than magic. "Who sent you?"

He remained silent, his eyes flashing in fury and fear. "Go to Hell."

She pivoted on her left foot, slashing out with her right arm. "Wrong answer."

He realised what she was doing a moment too late. Sharp pain cut across his face, warm blood dripped into his open mouth as her knife slashed through his flesh, an icy sting. His cry of agony was drowned out as the sky erupted in rain.

Her breathing was even as she looked up through her curtain of hair at the man encased in great slabs of ice. The blood that trickled down his face matched the deep crimson of his eyes that glared hatefully at her as his body shuddered involuntarily. She let her triumphant grin show and the man's lips curled back. Blood flecked across his teeth and ran down his neck.

"Who sent you?" She realised then that perhaps her original theory had been wrong; for the Kings and Queens did not yet know of her.

"Just kill me," he growled, spitting blood and saliva at her feet. "You're clearly capable of it."

"Yes. I am. So you will tell me exactly what I want to know."

The man laughed bitterly. "Sorry, pretty girl, but I fear my mistress's wrath far more than yours." He twisted his neck sharply and Arianna felt more than heard the deafening crack. _May as well search him…_

The fabric was light and loose about his body, made for a hot climate. She suppressed a shiver and moved to his belt. The knives it held were unremarkable, with no marker to even indicate where they had been made. The serrated knives were wickedly sharp and glistened brightly even in the rain; obviously good quality. She let a sigh escape her lips as she ran a finger over the flat of one of the unsheathed knives. The metal pulsed beneath her fingers tips and her eyes closed in concentration. The metal had been forged recently, but the metal had originated in a desert. Her eyes shot open, her eyes widening in surprise as she looked at the man's face. Even in the moonlight the tan of his skin was apparent, darkened by constant exposure to the sun. She re-sheathed it carefully and attached it to her belt before resuming her search.

She unbuckled his belt and dropped it in the mud at her feet. She turned away from the dull crimson eyes.

A strange mark caught her attention; it swirled up under the hem of his shirt, seemingly etched into his skin. With a grimace Darkness peeled back his shirt. Onto the hard, flat planes of his stomach a great cat had been tattooed. Its maw was wide open in a growl, its eyes almost glistening. Her breath caught in her throat. It was perfect in every detail, the lustrous mane almost shining.

A lion.

She had never seen one though she knew they were worshipped by the Narnians. Dread stole over her body like a mist. The rain seemed to sink it into her bones, taking root there. She knew the being was no servant of Aslan – no – it was someone else entirely. A warning.

_Beware of Aslan._

She dropped the shirt hastily and stepped back. She raised her arm slowly, closing her eyes. She clenched her fist slowly, covering the man completely in ice, a wintery casket. Her breath left her slowly as she lowered her arm. The gurgling sound of the mud filled her ears.

Then it was silent.

…..

Arianna blinked, the brightness almost blinding in its intensity, the memory still hovering close to the surface of her mind. It hung in her mind's eye, tantalising, taunting her; her dreams were trying to tell her something; trying to make her realise what was before her eyes. But then she stilled, awareness closing in around her. Her body was encased in warmth, bare beneath the furs that covered her, a strange weight over her waist. She blinked again, her whole body rigid.

She could feel the snow outside as it fell,

And then that weight pulled her closer.

It was as arm.

Edmund's arm.

Shock.

Understanding.

Acceptance.

_Happiness…?_

And then she saw nothing; the dark mist engulfed her. She let it.

…..

"What have you done!?" Jadis wanted nothing more than to wipe the slight smile upon the young woman's face. Lightning crackled in the mist surrounding them, a flash of light in the darkness. "You've ruined everything!"

There was no fear of admonition on the small heart-shaped face that looked up at her. Wide unblinking eyes that were a brighter emerald than her own. More warm. "I have done nothing that you would not have."

Rage welled within her; anger a pleasant hum along her veins. There was a slight glow to the girl's skin. A certain _warmth_. And Jadis did not delude herself as to what the cause was.

Edmund.

The dark king who would be their undoing.

But she was growing stronger. Arianna could keep her at bay for a time, but she could not keep her out forever. Edmund's untimely appearance was a blessing and a curse. For the emotions lowered the barriers around Arianna's mind – the lowering that allowed Jadis to gain control of her body. But it meant her little warrior was distracted.

She would have to get rid of Edmund, as much as it pained her. She had wanted him so much; wanted him as hers. She coveted him. If she could not have him then no one could.

Maybe her thoughts showed in her eyes; for she watched as Arianna's eyes grew hard, her small fists clenching. "You will not touch him."

A line appeared in the icy mirror. A minuscule fissure.

Jadis snarled.

Arianna was growing too strong.

She would not be cast from her mind; left without a body and not strong enough to sustain even a ghostly form.

…..

He awoke to an empty bed, the sun shining almost merrily through the window.

"Leave," Arianna's eyes were cold, her face a void of emotion, sitting a chair, encased in shadow. The hard words were, no doubt, directed at him for he felt something akin to relief shudder through his body. She was giving him permission to leave the castle. He did not open his mouth to protest; he was not offended as another would have been perhaps. He looked over her beautiful face, taking in each detail as if it would be the last time he laid eyes on her. Her full mouth was set, her emerald eyes wide, haunted by a past she would not reveal to him. Her face was a mask of perfect indifference, for it gave none of her thoughts away. He found himself wondering, once more, if it was still a mask. There was never any regret, no hesitation as she took a life. She would have been the perfect assassin, disposing of their enemies quickly, leaving no trace.

But he _knew _her. The mask meant the witch's work was afoot.

…..

The soft angelic face was surrounded by stray chocolate curls which had escaped the restraints of the shining gold crown upon her head. She was dressed in an emerald dress, with the soft sheen of velvet, the handsome man at her side dressed in a tunic of the same material. His dark eyes were severe; his build that of a seasoned warrior, though still in his prime with dark locks falling messily beneath the crown. Behind them, almost in the shadows, was another – almost identical to the proud queen.

Jadis scoffed with contempt at the painting. The woman, so beautiful, so dangerous. Dead. With slow, deliberate movements she touched the face of the woman. The Room of Past – where she had stored the few things salvaged from Charn. The fire, so perfectly controlled, spread out from her fingertips. The woman's face, so beautiful and perfect, disappeared as the flames engulfed the fragile parchment which cracked off and fell to the ground at Jadis's feet. The oil that had once been lovely pictures melted, bubbling sickeningly, the paintings indistinct.

As the fire spread to consume the entire painting, Jadis watched, remembering another fire she had fanned which had soared into a raging inferno.

The clouds over Charn had been black, tainted by the smoke that billowed up from the fires that had raced through the city. The mesmerising flames had been reflected perfectly in the crystal clear lake beside the city which should have been her. The spiralling towers were lost in the smoke, the beautiful stone charred and blackened. Even the marble gates were streaked with charcoal and grime, the bodies heaped before the entrance as her sister's warriors desperately trying to fight back the attackers. They seemed trapped, with only a single bridge over which they could retreat.

Of the bodies littered across the hills, the emerald eyed woman gave no pause. Casualties were to be expected. The beautiful rolling hills were strewn with bodies, blood running in rivulets. Her own army, amassed behind her were a force to be reckoned with.

Turning to her General beside her she had opened her mouth to speak.

"JADIS!" she did not recognise the voice, but the alarm and fear that laced through the tone made her spin, sword out to face the oncoming threat. Her mouth opened in a snarl at the sight that met her.

Her sister; her precious sister at the head of her army. Emerald mists swirling around her.

She used magic!

"Jadis! Surrender!"

Lost in her memories, Jadis felt the heat of the flames warming her face. The frames of the paintings, heavy wood, still smouldering crashed to the ground.

It had been so easy to use the Word; to see her dear sister's eyes widen in shock when she had realised what was happening.

She had known it would win her the war; win her the crown. But she had not truly understood what the cost would be.

Walking through the Room of Past, with her sister's precious paintings falling about her, Jadis smirked. The flames licked her body as she strode through. Though the furs she wore matched the icy walls that did not melt; her corn-silk hair seemed too pale, almost the same colour as her parchment-white skin. Her emerald eyes glittered cruelly; there was no need to hide the fact she felt no remorse. Charn was dead and gone. She ruled Narnia. ; those Pevensie children would not take it from her.

The flames billowed outwards as she opened the door. Without a backwards glanced she slammed the heavy oak door shut, leaving her sister's precious memories to burn. Nothing could stop her.

The cold air raised no goose bumps on her skin, she did not feel it.

"Jadis," the young voice was soft, questioning and she paused, looking down at the child who stepped from the doorway. Clutching a blanket in her hand, wide emerald eyes looking up imploringly. The very picture of childish innocence – at odds with the skill the child had with a blade.

"What is the matter, child?" she kept her voice soft, kneeling down to the child's eye level. Who was extremely small for one of Charn.

Those full lips trembled. A familiar heart-shaped face, so small and delicate, a dusting of freckles across her nose. So much like _hers_.

"I'm scared," her voice wavered.

"Of what?"

"That you'll leave me, that I'll be left all alone."

Jadis paused, looking into the child's eyes. Something shot through her – something that was not anger or rage, something that had nothing to do with cunning. But it would work with her plan quite well. A back up plan. She touched the girl's skin. She felt no warmth, like she had when she'd touched Edmund. Sorcery ran deep within her blood. "Emotion is weakness, you must not let it control you."

The young girl was the perfect warrior. Obedient, adoring, willing to serve. She would perhaps grow into a fearsome adversary. But at eight years old she was easily guided.

She bowed her head, apologetic.

"But I could cast a spell, child. So that I never leave you. I will be inside your mind, a part of it. If something ever happens to me."

"You'll never leave me?" the child's voice was almost hopeful – hope she tried to reign in.

Jadis shook her head. "I will be ever present; guiding you from with your mind. You will never be without me."

The child nodded.

"Open your mind, Arianna. Let me inside."

…..

The first time it had happened Ari had been terrified as the creeping mist stole through her mind, blocking everything else out. And then she had been aware that it was no longer her controlling her body. She could see everything, she could feel everything, but she could not _do_ anything. Jadis had placated her, reminding her of the promise she had made.

But looking at Edmund she would not, she could not let Jadis have him. He was too _good_, despite what he thought. The darkness within him was eclipsed by the light, a simple shadow of what he used to be.

But she let none of her thoughts show on her face.

He sat up slowly, the furs falling to reveal his bare chest. Warmth shot through her once before she dispelled it before it could take root.

"Leave Edmund, and don't come back."

_Beware of Aslan._

It was a ripple in her mind, reaching out. She felt Jadis shudder within.

But it did not sound like a warning to her.

More a promise.


	9. Chapter 9

**A special thanks to ScarletLeon, Allie Danger and kungfupandabear for reviewing : )**

**Introducing the rest of the characters now, super long chapter : ) Also don't forget to review : ) Tell me what you think of the story : ) pleeeeeeeeeeeease**

**Chapter 9**

Arianna's gaze swept over the room from her position upon the glittering throne, her skirts pooling around her feet like the tarn at the base of a waterfall. There were no vines or flowers that ran across the walls like there was in Cair Paravel; instead the ice walls were bare and stark, blue flames illuminating the chambers where her 'council' sat before her. A minotaur, a polar bear, a snow fae, a snow wolf, a centaur, a dryad and a sorcerer. Such a motley group. But each served their purpose well.

She did not speak, not straight away. Instead she turned her gaze to the singular window that offered a view of the castle courtyard and the sweeping expanse of the frozen lake beyond the castle walls. Overhead the storm clouds rolled in.

She knew they'd all made note of the crown she wore when they had walked in. Beautifully crafted, it mimicked glittering icicles that formed on the gutters in the coldest of winters. Of dwarven make it was every bit as beautiful as Jadis's crown had been, perhaps even more so for it almost shone with a light of its own. She would not wear Jadis's crown any longer.

Those who sat before her spoke quietly among themselves. In hushed voices that would not carry to where she sat above them. The air was swirling with magik; she could feel the currents as if they were a soft wind, dancing across her skin like a lover's gentle touch.

It could have been the dryad, with her moss-green eyes and sparkling face and hands, that the magic originated, or perhaps the snow fae, whose skin shone in the soft blue light. Or even the sorcerer.

"Your Majesty, may we begin?" the imposing figure who spoke was one that Ari had known since she was a child. With his dark hair in rows of small braids, each weighted by small onyx's that matched his eyes, he looked every part the sorcerer that he was. It was he who had taught Jadis the slight control over fire that she had, it was he who had been her lover. He raised the silver goblet to his lips, taking a small sip, his eyes never leaving hers. She watched as a single droplet of blood red wine trickled from his lip and down to the point of his chin, where it stayed but a moment too long. Then it fell, splashing against the mahogany table, a shimmering fountain of red rain in the sunlight as she saw her face reflected in each of those miniscule droplets.

She raised her brows at him. He dared to tell her what to do?

It was fortunate for him that he was not easily replaced.

…..

Elyon, leader of the snow fae that inhabited the wintery ice-land that the Ice Queen before them had sustained. She could feel the tension in the air as if it were palatable.

She would follow the beautiful woman into battle, the woman who bore little resemblance to the one who had called herself the Queen of Narnia, save for those calculating emerald eyes. Elyon had not allied herself with the former ruler of the castle; the woman had been too volatile, too unpredictable. _But this one will do well, _she thought, her fingers glazing across the rim of her diamond-encrusted goblet, a trail of ice in their wake. Arianna of Charn was cunning, she did not simply rely on magic and fear.

And it was that reason that Elyon had allied herself to the army the young woman was amassing. She had no doubt that the young woman could rule the world.

Her gossamer wings twitched in anticipation.

…..

"It was your _dear _friend who betrayed us your Majesty," Tyrian's voice was a low growl. "He would not have been able to leave had you not given him permission." His obsidian eyes were flinty as they looked at her.

The other's sat tight lipped; back's straight, watching their interaction. Fleetfoot, the snow-wolf who was as large as a small horse, had his lips pulled back over his teeth. The low growl emanating from his throat reverberated throughout the room.

She briefly wondered what Edmund would have thought of the leaders who supported her. Pushing it to the back of her mind, where Jadis was chortling at the display, her eyes hardened. "You doubt me, Tyrian?" She watched the colour leave his face at her tone; perhaps it seemed to him as if Jadis were speaking through her. "Do you perhaps believe you could do better?"

The silence that followed her words was suffocating, the tension so thick she could have sliced through it with one of her wickedly sharp knives.

But Tyrian did not back down. "You have been distracted of late, _Arianna_. You are without your wits, your cunning, or even your daggers."

Arianna almost laughed. _Almost. _"You think I need my daggers to perform magic?"

How she loathed when people underestimated her.

…..

Lucy paced in her chambers. None of it made sense.

For the witch to have melded her mind with that of Arianna – therefore keeping her mind alive even after her body perished – the girl would have had to be willing. Willing to sacrifice her own life for the witch.

She needed to speak with Edmund – who had returned the night before completely unharmed. Glancing out the window she watched the snow fall; heavy and persistent. She could not handle another war; she did not want to lose her friends.

For even her cordial could not save them all.

She looked at the scroll once more, holding it before her.

Then her eyes widened as she read the part she had missed.

…..

"Do you challenge my rule, Sorcerer?" her eyes were as hard as ice. She watched as his face change, his skin as dry as paper, almost crackling.

Devoid of moisture.

"You know nothing beyond these walls, sorcerer," Arianna knew her eyes hardened to black stones when she looked to sorcerer. She did nothing to soften her gaze, Edmund would have approved. "What would you know of the Narnians? I have fought them, I have killed them. I know how they think." She snarled slightly, eyes flashing. "Jenari will give them all the information he knows and they will march upon us. It is here and nowhere else that we have the advantage."

His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He saw the hatred flashing in his eyes. Anger that she had not taken him as a consort as Jadis had; anger that one so young had outsmarted him.

…..

Myriel Holly, Queen of the Northern Dryads, watched with curiosity as the moisture was drawn from the sorcerer's body, leaving him nothing more than a dry husk. With nothing more than a glance from the young ice-witch-child.

He was foolish to test her powers. For she, oldest of the old, could sense the potential within the small frame that controlled the water-ocean-ice.

The dryad, unlike those of the south-east-west, did not oppose the winter. For it was when she was most alive, her tree prospered under the reign of the witch-queen-sorceress. The ice-witch-child was different; she was far more subtle-sneaky-powerful.

She would not be easily beaten by the human-strangers as her captor-queen had.

"You planned this all out?" the wolf-leader growled, its eyes as bright as any other creature.

There was a slight ripple of murmurs as the sorcerer-fool coughed, his face regaining its shape and colour.

Though they called themselves her counsel, perhaps the others had underestimated the ice-witch-child. They had thought her too distracted-besotted with the young king-prince-warrior with the dark-haunted-handsome eyes.

"Our army is larger than ever before, larger than Queen Jadis's ever was," the ice-witch-child spoke with a clear voice. Commanding. "I will not lose."

Myriel felt the promise in those words. But she felt as if there was another meaning-secret. She would accompany the ice-witch-child to the castle by the sea, where her magic-dagger-weapon was. Then they would win the war.

…..

"I've never met anyone like her before," Edmund said, his brow furrowed. "She's smart; whilst she does lie she omits certain truths. There is very little that I can be truly sure about. But I know that no longer does she do the bidding of the White Witch."

They had gathered in their private chambers, one used by the four of them only. Rich tapestries, plush rugs, a crackling fire in the hearth. Everything about the room spoke of warmth, of familiarity.

But in that moment, deciding the fate of Narnia, the room was chilly, ominous.

"No longer? She cannot be trusted Ed!" Peter growled, his frustration leaking through.

"I once trusted the Witch," he said softly. They had to understand, there was something different about Arianna, they had to understand he was not blinded by her beauty. She was fighting the witch that lay within her mind, he knew.

"What would you have me do, Ed? Sit here idly while her forces gather?" he knew Peter was at his wits' end. Delegation after delegation had arrived in Cair Paravel in his absence, wanting assurances that they were safe, that there was no true threat. And Peter could promise them nothing, empty words to reassure them was all he could give. His only explanation for Edmund's absence was that the younger king had been scouting the north, a partial truth.

For once Edmund could not advise his brother – for he did not know the best course of action to take. To try and take her castle would be folly, for the enchantment would trap their troops within her lands. And he did not know if she would move out and try to take Cair Paravel, for though she fought it, he did not know how much influence the White Witch had over her.

The witch, he did not doubt, would attack them directly.

"What about Aslan?" Lucy's voice was soft, little more than a whisper, but it caught the siblings attention.

Edmund glanced at his younger sister, unable to miss what she was thinking. She had the most faith in him; she knew he was watching them always. But they could not rely upon him for help, they had to do their own part.

"He will come."

…..

She spoke with such assurance, such belief that Peter almost believed in her. But he could not rely on the lion – for he was no tame lion. Though it was true that Lucy had a special bond with him, he would not answer their beck and call. For they had not seen him in years.

"Ed, what's that?" Susan's voice was laced with disbelief. And fear.

…..

"Sister-mother-queen, I welcome thee," the dryad bowed low to Myriel, her honey-coloured eyes obviously curious as to why the northern dryad was so far from her tree. Travelling with two stranger's through the woods.

Winter's icy kiss had stilled the trees. Most of the dryad's in hibernation. They did not sing or dance to the stranger's as they entered, they remained as silent as stone. It was not snowing under the canopy, instead it was only a small trickle of rain that covered the trio.

"We seek to sleep beneath thine bowers tonight child-sister," Myriel said softly, her wild auburn curls flecked with snow and holly leaves.

Well aware of how the dryads spoke, Ari was not confused by the mixed honorifics; for the dryads used words they believed summed up the essence of something, rather than a title. For mother or daughter denoted age rather than a maternal bond.

"The forest-home-nest will protect thee," the dryad bowed once more and Ari noticed that she was dressed in furs and thick leathers. Her tree was obviously not a winter one, for she needed protection from the harsh elements. Her small heart-shaped faced was alight with curiosity, the shimmering emerald dust that covered her forehead and ears was winking in the light cast by Faelar's torch.

Arianna's emerald gaze met those curious honey orbs from beneath her deep hood. Her lips opened as if to say something, the rain trickling down her tanned green-tinged face but Myriel thanked her.

And they were on their way.

…..

Edmund glanced at the daggers, at the ice that had spread out from them – like snowflakes covering his bedside table. In the light cast by the moon that flittered through the window he could see the crystalline drops that had frozen, spreading out like a spider's web.

He did not know how he knew it, but he did.

The daggers were connected to Arianna.

"She's coming."

…..

Weaving through the, she was little more than a shadow as she leapt from root to root, her feet never touching the ground. The night was her cloak as she moved as if she were flying, her bow held loose. The forest was beautiful in its deadly calm. No eyes watched her, the smaller animals kept away, she darted around those who would cause her harm. The fog hid her, the rain trickling down her back, caught on curling long lashes as the eyes of a hunter blinked. She could smell the deer, not two hundred feet before her, sleeping on a patch of lush grass, hidden by ferns. The stream gurgled merrily beside them as one of them dipped its head to drink, unaware that she could sense it's every movement. It did not even know she was there.

Arianna crouched low on a root, her hand resting on the tree trunk as she peered through the ferns. They were fine creatures, soft and genteel. Knocking an arrow to the bow she raised it, taking aim.

She felt the surge of magic through the tree before she saw the flash of gold in the darkness, larger than a horse. Supressing the growl that surfaced she placed the arrow back in her quiver, hanging her bow over her shoulder. With no effort at all she climbed the tree, her deft fingers and feet easily finding footholds in the bark until she reached the first branch. The height did not daunt her as she swung herself up, landing in a crouch, peering through the mist that swirled across the forest floor. With the grace and silence of a predator she followed.

She tumbled through the air with the skill of an acrobat, her feet finding purchase on the wet branches easily. The golden creature was fast, but she did not lose sight of it as it darted through the trees in powerful bounds. Her blood pounded through her veins, exhilaration coursing through her. Teeth bared in anticipation, she flattened herself against the trees, hidden in the leaves as she climbed higher, her eyes never leaving the creature.

It was taking her deeper into the forest, she knew that. Away from the group, away from the river. Its body whirled, taking a sharp left before halting in a clearing.

Ari slowed, creeping towards the edge of the branch, drawing her bow once more, she fitted an arrow. She froze, her eyes widening in the dark as she beheld the beast in its entirety. Eyes of molten gold looked up at her. Too intelligent; too wise. She knew it saw her, even hidden by the foliage as she was. Broad paws, each as easily as wide as her face, padded on the soft earth as it paced back and forth. It was by far the largest lion Ari had ever laid eyes upon. Its eyes never left hers as it moved.

It was beautiful, filled with deadly grace as low growls tore from its throat. She did not lower her bow, even as it stopped its pacing. It could not reach her, but she would not take the chance. Her body was taut as her bowstring as she crouched there.

Neither of them moved for what seemed like an eternity, the very forest surrounding them seemed to freeze. The sound of its heartbeat and hers pounded in her ears, perfectly in sync.

Its head turned, a slight inclination, pointing. Keeping the bow trained on the snow tiger, she flicked her eyes to where it looked.

A larger herd of deer littered the clearing beyond, sleeping peacefully unaware of the danger that stood only a few feet from them. But the beast did not attack; it merely gazed at her once more with eyes far too intelligent. Eyes which raked over the stag in the centre of the clearing. Its antlers a magnificent spectacle, a creature in the prime of its life. An invitation? A challenge?

She could not have guessed its motivation, but the intent was clear. The kill would be hers.

Her hands shifted as she took aim once more, her breathing even, drawing the string back to her cheek. The rain poured over her small face, invigorating, and fresh. She let the arrow fly with a soft ping. It found its target; buried in the eyeball, piercing the skull of the now dead animal. Its startled squeal awoke the other deer, who launched to their feet without a second thought, fleeing the clearing.

"Arianna!" Faelar's voice reached her as the thundering of many hooves faded. The lion looked up at her once more, something akin to approval in its eyes. Without a sounded it turned swiftly, leaping through the trees. It disappeared into the mist as if it were never there.

Faelar burst through the same mist the next moment, out of breath. He found her immediately, his eyes accusing as she leaped from the branch. She landed softly, curling over and rolling before standing, sweeping her gaze over him. No arrows where missing from his quiver, his bow still unstrung. Had he been searching for her?

Knowing she was not going to explain herself, Faelar merely shook his head. Entering the clearing Arianna was only mildly surprised to find it sheltered from the rain. With soft step she approached her kill. It was small, weak almost, on the edge of the clearing it had been sleeping away from the others.

Without a word she hefted it over her shoulders.

The young doe would not have survived another week.

She turned her gaze back to where the lion had disappeared.

Aslan was watching her.

…..

Deep within the forest, shrouded in darkness and frost, he stirred. He saw the young woman's face before his eyes. The unknown girl who blazed like a beacon, a light in the darkness that drew him from his slumber.

_Join me,_ he whispered in his mind. A call to those who served him.

He dimly heard Araith's startled cry in the chamber beside him. But it was not the stones that made the cavern that he felt beneath his feet; it was not the soft snow that he saw.

He saw the snow-capped mountains of the north, catching the light like crystals as the sun shone high in the sky, the flurries of snow dancing merrily in the eternal winter of _her_ domain. He felt the decks of the Telmarine's sturdy ships rocking beneath his feet; the fearsome warriors fought under the harsh sun, the tattoos rippling across taut muscle as they wielded heavy broadswords. Dark eyes flashed with cunning; their king at the helm. The cool ocean breeze of the Lone Islands played with the short strands of his hair. Dolphins, their sleek grey bodies reflecting the light, leapt through the beautiful aquamarine waves which crashed upon heavenly white sands. He could taste the snow that stole through the beautiful forests that surrounded Cair Paravel. Birds in the trees, which had been resting peacefully moments before, were startled into flight as they felt the world surge with the Old Magic; wolves twitched in their dens as they slept. The dryads of the north and south shifted uneasily; their green eyes darting from place to place. Things were changing in the world that they could not comprehend. Corradyn saw it all from within his cave, awakened by her presence.

And he saw her, the Ice Queen in a bed of leaves and snow beneath the bowers of a tree, turn as she sensed his vision on her. Her fall of silken mahogany curls that tumbled over the dark leathers that did nothing to hide her figure. Emerald eyes flashed challengingly. _This is my land_, those lovely eyes seemed to say.

Within his cave Corradyn laughed, his crimson eyes the colour of old blood flashing. He looked around the cave, kept spotless by his faithful servants.

He felt them stirring, his mind brushing against theirs. The White Witch was gone; and the young woman who had awakened him was far more powerful. She would be his and they would conquer the world together.

***if your confused about anything…tell me : ) I'm hoping it all makes sense so far**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hopefully explained in this chapter : ) sorry to confuse! Ok so it's pretty much linear, unless it's a memory, but if it is I'll generally mention ages : ) Once again sorry for the confusion, so I'm posting this straight away to clear it up : ) hopefully…**

**Chapter 10**

Arianna looked once more at Cair Paravel, a multitude of twinkling lights, frosted with a delicate layer of snow. In the distance it looked like a beacon, a sanctuary beyond the forest. A sanctuary seemingly untouched by the looming war, a citadel of peace. The citadel she would once again infiltrate.

With the sun setting behind it, the castle looked as if it were one of the beautiful oil paintings that Charn was famous for. The sky was striped with colour, the last rays of sunlight reaching through the thick cloud cover. Even from such a distance she could hear the waves crashing upon the beach, rhythmic and calming.

Across their small campsite she looked at Faelar, who was of the same ilk as Jenari, with his white-blonde hair falling across his pale face, his beard trimmed close to his handsome jaw. Though his eyes were darker, more midnight than sapphire. He was perhaps one of the few she could trust. For he served her not their cause.

In the crackling, dancing light of their campfire, he looked almost demonic. But in that moment he was looking at her with something akin to concern, though nothing showed upon her face.

There was an uneasiness deep within her; something that had nothing to do with the appearance of Aslan. Never before had she wished for the gift of foresight – she would have to consult with Moonshade when they returned.

"I miss her too," Faelar said softly. "Her death was not your fault. She wanted to go."

She looked into the crackling flames, seeing not Aslan's powerful form as others were wont to do. Instead she saw Myria's laughing eyes. Intelligent orbs the colour of a holly leaf when the first rays of sunlight fell upon it in the morning, surrounded by shimmering green sparkles. Her unruly russet hair, with holly berries strewn throughout, flying in the wind as she laughed, her sword swinging around her.

The dryad who had been her best friend. Who had left the castle, who Arianna had given permission to leave, to attack a Narnian village. And had been killed; set alight. Other than cutting down her tree, it was the only way to truly kill a dryad. Ari had never been fond of fire.

Her best friend who she had grown up with; her tree had been planted a few years before her own birth. She had not been lying to Edmund when she'd said that Myria had felt when she had not. Jadis had punished her if she showed even the slightest of emotions; so it had been Myria who laughed for her. Of course Jenari would have fallen for the lively dryad, who seemed so out of place in the frozen wastelands of the north.

"You should not mourn your friend-sister," Myriel said softly, her face in shadow. The dryad had been like a daughter to her, for she had planted the tree herself; never before had Ari seen such distress as when she'd informed Myriel of her death. Of course the dryad queen had known something was wrong, but she had not thought. "She would not want you to."

She knew she was not to blame for Myria's death. Though within her heart of hearts she felt it; guilt, gnawing and chipping away at her resolve. Within her mind she felt Jadis laugh, even as slumber overtook her. The flickering flames did not hide her pained expression.

"_You are as unfeeling as the winter you so perfectly control, dear _Queen_. You sent your best friend to death." _Jenari's words, spoken in anger and grief haunted her.

…..

"You've changed, little Arianna." She was proud, and Arianna's stomach sunk. Older and able to understand, she knew that it was not a good thing. As a young girl she would seek praise – it was death that Jadis required, perfection with the blade that ended an opponent's life with a single stroke. She had become an efficient killing machine; a tool to be used.

Though at the time she'd not realised.

She was older now, perhaps wiser.

And yet…

She moved forward a step, seeing herself reflected by Jadis's side in the mirror; the crown of glittering sliver upon her head. She was surprised to see the long sweeping skirts when she looked down; heavenly and white, the colour of freshly fallen snow.

"The heartless Ice Queen who sent her only friend to death; who sent her lover away with no tears." Jadis laughed. "Is that not what they call you?"

"Shut up!" Arianna snarled. Though there was no satisfaction as Jadis's eyes widened in shock; white hot rage coursed through her. Unforgiving and dangerous.

Lightning cracked in the mist around them.

"You will not speak to me in such a way!" Jadis roared, her teeth pulled back in a vicious snarl, her eyes flashing. "It was I who gave you life! It was I who raised and cared for you-"

"You care for none but yourself and you'd have me become the same," Arianna's voice was a low growl, like that of a wolves, a hunter. A predator. "I do not fight for you, Jadis Empress of Charn. You are a plague upon this land. Under your rule nothing prospered but your own power."

Jadis laughed once more, her hand reaching out, pressing against the inside of the mirror. "What of you, dear Arianna? Are your intentions so pure? You are a monster. You have killed and killed again; you feel no remorse. You lead an army against the Narnians in your own name."

Each word was a carefully crafted knife, created to pierce her. But she felt nothing. She would not let Jadis win. "They fight under your influence, not mine. I will beat you Jadis."

"What of Edmund? You think he will take you as his wife, his queen? You think the Narnians will let him?" another bout of laughter, lost in the mists.

Arianna looked at her own reflection, visible beyond Jadis as it never had been before. She would not fall prey to the sorceress's taunts. She would never again do the witch's bidding of her own free will. She had felt the murderous intent in Jadis, had Arianna not ordered him to leave, she would have taken control of her body and killed him. She needed her daggers. For they were the lynch pin of her plan. "I will no longer bow to you, false Queen of Narnia. You have made me what I am. So none can be blamed but yourself. You've crafted the tool of your downfall."

…..

"You'd like her, Lu," he told her as she fixed his collar, smoothing out the black tunic he wore. The fine silver embroidery winked in the torch-light.

Lucy looked over her brother, taking in everything carefully. His eyes, normally hard and cynical, had softened slightly when she'd asked about Arianna of Charn.

"Do you love her, Ed?" she asked softly. She had to know.

His pause told her everything she needed to know, the slight frown that tugged at his lips only confirmed it rather than deny. "Perhaps I would have, under different circumstances."

She could not hurt her brother. She'd find another way.

For in the hours spent in the library she'd stumbled across an ancient text. One that spoke in detail about the spell she believed Jadis had used to attach her soul to Arianna's when she had been eight years old – too young to truly understand what was happening. The spell bound the two tightly together.

She had discovered that when Arianna grew stronger, so did the witch – perhaps strong enough to leave the young woman's body for periods of time. She would become a wraith, a shadow without true form. But she could not be killed.

For whilst Arianna lived, so did Jadis.

Lucy shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She could not tell Edmund that, she would find a way to free Arianna. If she truly did wish to be free as Ed believed.

"Come on, Ed, we'll be late," Lucy laughed, tugging on her brother's arms.

Another of Susan's parties beckoned.

…..

Corradyn turned to the auburn-haired woman by his side, her skin as pale as parchment, her eyes the colour of fresh holly leaves. Those pale hands covered in the glittering pigment of a dryad, a colour so unlike his own, that gripped the goblet did not tremble. They raised the goblet, slowly but surely, her full lips parting to accept the thick liquid within. The liquid that would bind her to him.

Surrounded by rock and suffocating darkness, the chanting began.

The flames soared behind her body as she tilted her head back; silhouetting her form that was clad in the dark leathers they all wore. Gone were the forest greens and white furs; gone were the leaves that had adorned her hair, blackened and dried by the fire that had claimed her life.

Before Corradyn and the woman, they all sunk to their knees, foreheads touching the ground. The very air seemed to hum – alive and anticipating. Their voices rose, in a strange language that none could truly understand for it came from far beyond the dawn of time. But their chanting was ominous, threatening. Corradyn felt a tingle along his spine in anticipation – the chant brought to his mind images of blood and death.

In the goblet she raised he saw his face reflected and the masses behind him. The angles of his small face were slender and beautiful; his wide eyes the colour of old blood. He looked over the eyes of those on their knees chanting – dark eyes that shone with fervour and adoration.

The blood trickled down her delicate chin, her eyes closed as if in ecstasy.

"Foolish Jadis with her belief in the Deep Magic," Corradyn laughed, fire flashing deep within his eyes as she straightened before him, the crowd hushed immediately. "Foolish witch who thought she could defeat _me_." Maybe she had sought to protect the little witch-child from him. But she was gone; it was done.

The dryad opened her eyes, a smirk on her lips, pert tongue darting out to lick the viscous liquid that clung to the soft flesh. The blood-red orbs shimmering in the light of the thousands of torches that burnt on the walls. The same colour of all those bound to him.

…..

With dark eyes she watched the stream of nobility entering the great wooden gates, adorned in their finery, bearing smiles and laughter. Even their horses were decorated with golden harnesses, groomed to a shine. In the light of the moon their coats looked like liquid silver, beautiful flanks filled with the power their riders lacked.

The amount of wealth on display could have fed her army for months; necks and wrists draped with glittering gold and sparkling jewels. Plush fur coats and shawls worn in attempt to stave off the cold. She could feel Jadis's disgust within her mind, a mocking laughter at their foolish preening. But it was an echo, not as overpowering as it once would have been.

The movement of her horse was steady beneath her, its steps lights as it took her towards the castle. "You look every part the Narnian Queen," Faelar said softly as he reached over and took her reins as if guiding her. Like a good manservant would.

"I am no Narnian," her voice was a whisper, unheard by all but him.

The guard was a centaur, certainly imposing to one who hadn't killed one of the creatures before. Beneath the light cast by the gate she could see him quite clearly, inclining her head slightly in acknowledgement. His eyes were the colour of cocoa, but there was no warmth in them, they were no match for Edmund's. His honey-coloured hair matched the colour of his equine tail, both were knotted with random plaits and beads; his coat was a shining golden-brown. Certainly a handsome face, but he was too stern, and it did not become him.

"Welcome, lady, to Cair Paravel," his voice was a deep rumble, almost like rough silk. And then she was inside the gates, with little more than a fancy gown to cover her and a cursory glance at the invitation.

She felt no guilt for the young woman and her rider who lay in the ditch with their throats slit, crimson blood spilt over her luxurious gown. The rubies she had worn were like droplets of blood against the snow that had become her tomb. To prevent any from finding them, Ari had told Faelar, though it was as if he'd seen right through her. It was how she would have liked to be buried when she died – encased in glittering ice.

They moved forward with the chattering crowd who did not notice the two outsiders. She paid no heed to where Myriel had gone – the dryad knew the plan.

…..

Jadis snarled. If she could pace she would have been. Her plans were crumbling around her – Arianna was no longer under her control. Try as she might she could not gain control of the woman's body, she had grown too powerful.

But her power fuelled Jadis's own. And soon…so soon she would be free. She would be able to leave the mind of Arianna, whose schemes were too complicated, too intricate. She had trained her too well.

She almost mourned the loss that was to come. But Jadis would not let her live. So she waited.

…..

Sliding into the shadows behind the stables, Arianna shed the disguise. With a simple tug of thread the sleeves unravelled, falling to the ground easily. The heavy skirt soon followed suit.

It was one her knives which rid her of the tightly-laced bodice – a single slice that rent the bindings useless and they too fell.

"Faelar," she said softly, bare from the waist up – for beneath the dress she'd already been wearing the leather breeches and boots the colour of night.

Wordlessly he passed her a simple cotton shirt which she donned, hastily tucking it into the breeches.

She moved into the background, shedding the heavy, decorative dress. No one save Faelar the know she'd been there. No one saw. To Ari it felt good to move with stealth once more, to dart in and out of the shadows as if she were one herself.

She would be wary of Edmund – for she could not predict his movements.

She would be more careful than last time.

…..

Edmund fought a growl as yet another girl latched onto his arm, begging him to twirl her around the ballroom. At Susan's glare he accepted with a slight nod, inwardly grimacing at the girl's smile.

His hand was light on her waist, even as his dark eyes scanned the crowd, searching for anything out of place. This was a celebration, Susan had told him, which was sorely needed. They needed a night to forget about the looming war, about the threat that hung over them all like thunderclouds.

The dryad he held was pretty he supposed, the glitter that was a part of her skin framed her wide eyes like a mask. But they were the wrong colour green, more like moss than the vibrant colour of light shining through an emerald. Her skin was too dark, her small hands too delicate, too soft, with the same glittery pigment as the skin around her eyes. Her hair was too wild, an auburn-like colour with a pink-ish tinge, with cherry blossoms tucked behind one ear.

She was not Arianna.

"Thou art distracted-worried-remembering, Your Majesty," the dryad said in her soft voice as she twirled around him once more.

Edmund started, embarrassed. Though the dryad was not angry, instead she had a strange little smile upon those lips. There was a twinkling in those eyes as she looked up at him, pulling away in a twirl of cherry-pink skirts and flying hair. Then she was in his arms once again, laughing as if oblivious to the glares the other ladies were sending her way. "I apologise my lady," he said softly. Peter would have laughed it off, extravagantly praising the woman's beauty to make her forget his lapse in concentration. But Ed was not Peter.

"Tis Rayla, not lady," she grinned.

Maybe he could like her. She didn't seem like the other air-headed women of the court.

…..

"What is she doing here?" Susan's voice was laced with surprise, her grey-blue eyes widened. She truly was resplendent in her deep plum gown with its intricate golden embroidery, a string of amethysts resting at the base of her throat. Indeed she was beautiful, she had drawn the attention of many men that night – they had flocked to her as if she were a rare and exotic flower. Lucy had done nothing but roll her eyes at her sister all night after being forced to dance with the noblemen who sought her hand. She almost scowled at the thought until she realised Susan's pretty smile was in place once more, for the object of her shock approached them.

Turning, it was all Lucy could do to stop her own shock from showing.

A dryad, that much was obvious from the sparkling pigment that covered her eyes, hands and bare feet. But her skin was paler than any dryad she had ever seen, the soft colour of fresh cream, her hair a mass of flame-coloured ringlets cascading around her small frame. A wreath of sharp, pointed leaves, the red berries matching the deep crimson fall of her dress perfectly. She had heard that the dryads of the north did not feel the cold, but never had she met one before to attest to it. The dress covered the dryad's breasts, but had no sleeves, her arms bare to the chilly air.

"Did you not invite her?"

"Of course I did, but none of them ever come," Susan whispered back. And then the dryad was before them; one of the elusive northern dryads who none ever saw for whilst the other dryad's were active, they slept. She curtsied elegantly, the crimson dress spreading outwards like the petals of a beautiful flower.

"Your Majesties," her voice held the musical quality of all dryads, yet there was something more regal about her, a certain glint to her leaf-coloured eyes. Those perfect plump lips, painted the most vivid red, curled into a winsome smile. Lucy did not trust her. "Tis a lovely gathering-party-frivolity that thee doth host."

"Why thank you," Susan's smile was positively radiant and Lucy almost hit her forehead – she was too easily swayed by compliments and beauty. "I was not expecting your presence, dryad."

"My name be Myriel Holly, human-queen-beauty," the dryad said with another of those smiles. One that was too beguiling. She reminded Lucy not at all of Arianna, who did not try to hide who and what she was. But then Lucy paused in her thought. The suffix of Holly, the name of her tree, meant the pretty dryad before them was the Queen of Holly trees. "And I have an offer for thee and thine sibling-kings-queens."

Lucy's eyes narrowed.

…..

She knew where they would be, they called to her.

Like the cool touch of water to wet her throat, she needed her daggers. Too long had she been without them. She slipped through the hallways, unnoticed by all.

She eased through the heavy oak door, opening it just a crack

But as she reached out to grasp them her eyes slid to him, as if by some unseen force. And she could not look away. He looked younger, free of burden, his hair tousled and falling messily over his forehead. Unconsciously her fingers twitched, itching to push back the locks she knew were silken to the touch. Her eyes memorised his face, the handsome line of his jaw, those soft lips, as if it were the last time she would ever see him. And perhaps it would be, for he could be killed in the carnage. Her eyes drifted down over his broad shoulders, exposed by the thick blanket he wore. He was more slender than Peter, she had noticed, but was no less handsome for it. For with it came a warrior's grace, a sureness of his own movements. His skin, like perfect alabaster, so different to her own was given a warm glow by the fire that warmed the room. Unbidden her hand reached out to touch him.

One last time.

"Ari," the warm voice froze her, as if he had her magical ability. But the soft word, mumbled through the haziness of a dream caused heat to flash through her in the next moment.

Her lips parted slightly, all thoughts of her daggers banished as she looked down at him; her emerald green eyes meeting his own dark ones. Liquid chocolate ones that burned into hers with an intensity that could destroy her.

He moved not with the grogginess of a sleeper; but with the swiftness of a trained warrior. Caught off-guard she stumbled, trapped in his gaze as if he possessed the power of the witches sceptre.

And in the next moment she found herself trapped between the wall and Edmund's body, her arms pinned above her head in a way that would have reminded her of their first meeting had her mind been able to form coherent thought.

But she could think of nothing but Edmund and his lips that were so close to her own, his body pressed against hers.

…..

Asura narrowed her eyes at the northern dryad who was sitting before them, her hands folded demurely in her lap. The private meeting room of the High King was riddled with tension following the dryad's pretty little speech.

"Where do your allegiances lie, dryad," Peter said, in the voice she recognised all too well. The voice of the High King, demanding, powerful.

But Myriel did not quiver, if anything she drew herself taller and Asura almost laughed – Peter was foolish if he thought to intimidate a northern dryad. For they were made of much sterner stuff than the frivolous dryads of the forests that surrounded Cair Paravel. "I serve Narnia, human-king-child. Thee hath no right to speak to me such a way." The words, spoken in such a soft voice had Peter blinking.

She could have liked the dryad, had she not been allied with the witch who'd killed too many of her men. As Captain of the Guard, a knight in her own right, Asura could not abide to have such a woman under her roof. Though she knew well of the witches charms, her own mother had served the White Witch freely.

If only Ed were there glare at the holly dryad, for he would intimidate her far more than Peter could ever hope to. He was not called the dark king for no reason. But he had retired early, pleading weariness.

"What of Aslan?" Lucy's voice, Asura was glad to hear, was doubtful. Gone was the trusting little child. She had not lost her faith, and yet…There was a light in her eyes that was absent in her older siblings.

"What of the father-lion-king?" the dryad titled her head to the side. Then her dark green eyes seemed to capture Asura's own ocean coloured ones. "What of thee, daughter of the river-north? Thee doth not belong here."

It was true, she had been born in the north. But she had been forced to flee south when the waters had frozen over. Soon there had been nowhere to go to; for the White Witch had destroyed her home and the homes of thousands of other naiads.

She looked down at her hand which was knotted in the light crimson of her uniform tunic. The hands of a warrior, though still creamy white and sparkling blue, the strange pigment catching the light from the crackling hearth. So similar to the skin of the dryad before her, yet so different. "This is my home now."

Those dark green eyes narrowed at her. "If thee doth not listen there shalt be no home for thee once more."

It was no idle threat. Asura did not doubt that Arianna could turn Narnia into a frozen wasteland just like the White Witch had. Yet there was something infinitely more dangerous about the self-proclaimed Ice Queen. With both hers and the witch's powers there was no telling what they could do.

Peter's summer blue eyes met hers from across the room, almost pleading. She would need to speak with him, they both knew. He could not march upon Arianna of Charn's ice castle, not with what the dryad had told them.

Perhaps it was best that they did what she suggested and allowed her to act as an emissary between them.

…..

He could do nothing but stare down at her small, her perfect face. It was as if she had been conjured by his very thoughts of her. Her eyes widened slightly, her soft lips parted. And he became aware of how very little either of them wore – there was nothing between them save the thin cotton shirt she wore, nothing but the breeches that encased their legs.

He realised, looking into those wide emerald eyes the colour of fresh leaves in spring, that the witch was not present. And there was no worry in her eyes of her surfacing.

"Ari," he said softly, a whisper, a caress. And then her eyes fluttered closed.

Fire raced through him at the cool touch of her lips, her body pressing against his as she captured his lips with her own. Dear Aslan, he wanted her.

"Ed!"

The door banged open with a crash, Lucy's voice startling him from the daze he had fallen under.

"Don't move," Arianna's voice was a cold hiss, but Edmund was not fooled. He'd felt her skin warm beneath his touch. He knew there was molten heat beneath her ice cold exterior. But the dagger was pressed into his neck, she must have moved fast.

Lucy froze in the door, her eyes wide. But her hand had automatically gone to her waist, where her dagger would normally have been strapped. Her mouth was open, as if she were going to say something. Whether it was at Arianna in that moment or the spectacle they had made.

"I don't want to hurt you Ed," she said softly, her stance one of deadly perfection, her breath blossoming across his cheek. "But I will."

He hesitated a moment too long and she moved, jumping through the open window in a single bound.


	11. Chapter 11

**So things are moving onwards now, proper plot and such….on with the story : ) don't forget to review ; ) **

**Chapter 11**

Corradyn trekked through the forests that winter never left, icicles clung eternally to the twisted and gnarled branches. Once the forest had been lush and dense, filled with exotic ferns and bushes, with brightly coloured flowers that bloomed in the early morning. But that had been long before the White Witch had betrayed him, casting him into a deep sleep until one awakened him.

And the one who had awakened him held power over the icy winter-land that he moved through. The dryad leaped through the trees, from branch to branch. She knew the woods of the Ice Queen's kingdom; for she had been raised there. He was not fool enough to believe there were no traps surrounding her castle, enchantments to trap the unaware. Jadis had been smart, yet overconfident. He did not doubt that Arianna of Charn, for that was what he had been told her name was, was smarter despite her tender age.

He glanced to Lilyn at his side, her brows drawn downwards, a snarl on her face. Like him, she had no love for the cold. There was fire in his veins.

And then the forest opened before them, the dryad landing deftly at his side in a crouch. Before them was the frozen lake, a lake which had once housed the most beautiful of mermaids. And at the far end, nestled between the mountains, rose the castle, spiralling from the ground like a unicorn's horn. It glittered with the light of a thousand stars, the icy facets reflecting the dim light that peeked through the thick clouds.

"Wait for us here, my dear," he told the dryad, who nodded briskly. She turned and disappeared into the trees once more.

He stepped onto the ice, revelling in the slight hissing sound that followed. He laughed when he felt the tugging on his mind, a spell that sought to entrap him. One he recognised well. For it was he who taught it to Jadis. With a wave of his hand the tugging ceased. Interesting that the spell had not disappeared after the witch's death.

With sure steps he made his way across the ice with Lilyn at his side.

…..

A long sigh escaped Peter, who held his head in his hands. The morning's rays streamed through the windows, a temporary relief from the damned cold of winter – the worst winter he'd seen since arriving. It bode ill for them all, he knew. It hinted at worse things to come.

"Pete, you are going to give yourself an apoplexy," Asura drawled in her liquid silk voice. Across the table from him she was lounging back in the plush crimson chair, her brows lifted at his expression. Her ocean blue eyes were twinkling in a way that would have been flirtatious on anyone else. But he knew it was not, for her full pink lips were pulled up in a smirk as she tucked a stray plait behind her ear – one of the many strewn throughout the pale blue locks. He'd only found out recently that it was the pale blue that hinted at her northern origins, for he'd met another naiad, with hair the colour of the sparkling waters that surrounded the Lone Islands. Shaking his head of the thoughts he looked back at the maps strewn across the table. "What do we do about Myriel? I can't figure her out."

The dryad queen was a mystery to him, yet at the bequest of his siblings he allowed her to sleep beneath their roof. Her movements, carefully monitored by Ed, showed nothing suspicious. But he could not dispel the feelings of unease that arose when he thought of her.

"That she has Narnia's best interest at heart I do not doubt," Asura told him, her way of speech far easier to understand than most other nature spirits. "For we of nature do not lie. But that does not mean we cannot omit certain truths."

He nodded to the faun who placed the tray of fruits upon the table between them, a far lesser selection that there would have been a year previous.

"Ed does not trust her," she added, almost as an afterthought.

They had worked for so long she did not need to question his expression. But he trusts the dryad's liege, Arianna of Charn? "I do not think that Ed trusts her; but what he feels for her is beyond his control."

"Perhaps the Ice Queen is a spirit of the ice," Peter mused.

"Silly king, do you no know that all ice-fae have skin the colour of the snow and hair the colour of starlight," she was laughing at him, he knew. "And there is the fact of their glittering wings which allow them to fly. Besides, I have been told she controls not only ice, but water as well."

Peter groaned, tugging on his locks. "And the White Witch resides in her mind; we don't know if she has her powers. By Aslan it's too complicated."

"At least you're not just going to storm her castle now."

He narrowed his eyes at her, cursing the naiad for being too pretty and quit-witted for her own good. He'd done well when he'd appointed her as Captain; though even Oreius had been wary, for the centaur had been dubious of her loyalties. But time and time again Asura had proven her worth.

"Do you think the White Witch is influencing him once more? Through Arianna perhaps?"

Asura shook her head once more. "I do not believe it has anything to do with magic, Peter."

Peter groaned. He'd dreaded that. "Typical. The one woman he decides to fall for is the one woman I have to kill to save Narnia."

"Ed believes she fights the witch," Asura said softly, catching his gaze. Those ocean blue eyes seemed to swirl for a moment, the sunlight catching the glittering pigment around her eyes. "Yet she still fights us." It did not make sense in his mind. "Perhaps it is in the blood of those of Charn to conquer."

…..

Edmund levelled his sword before him, aimed at his younger sister who was once again dressed a tunic and breeches, her fur-lined boots covered with mud. Her face and hair was covered much in the same way, Susan would have had a fit if she saw. At the thought Edmund chuckled, before hastily raising his sword to block Lucy's flurry of blows which she reigned down upon him without mercy. The snow danced around them, just as it had that time he'd watched Arianna train…

Then Edmund's dark brows shot up in surprise as he looked at his blade, now twenty feet away, lodged in the snow. The first of the sun's rays shone over the surrounding walls as archers looked down upon their match with curiosity – amused to see their best, bested.

Lucy grinned in response. She gripped the sword with both hands, holding it before her, a smug glint in her blue eyes. The ruby inlaid in the hilt of her sword shone, dappling the ground with crimson light. Her feet were perfectly placed – shoulder width apart, her grip firm – just as he'd taught her. "I don't just carry this around for show you know," her voice was light and teasing as she swung her sword around in an arc; the well-crafted blade catching the slight morning light.

He growled. She'd known he had not been paying attention.

"I'm not just another little female."

"No, you're my baby sister," Ed replied with a smirk.

Lucy lunged forward with her own growl, narrowly missing as Edmund jumped to the side quickly, retrieving his fallen sword. He spun to face her, watching her with calculating eyes, his short tousled hair blowing slightly in the soft wind that brought with it the fresh scent of the forests surrounding the manor. The sun was rising, lighting the courtyard with its bright golden light, gleaming off the perfect marble walls and shining off the hard armour of the war horses who watched the match with curiosity.

Ed shifted his foot slightly, feeling the weightlessness of the snow beneath. His grip on the sword was sure; the metal almost humming under his familiar touch. The dwarven-crafted blade shone a brilliant silver in the sunlight. Across the guard was a sunburst, below it Aslan's likeness. The twin to it was still strapped securely to his back, but he would not use it in this fight.

He swung the blade in a circle, testing it as Lucy watched him warily. She would know what it meant – that he was getting serious even though they'd been training for over an hour. He waited for the girl to press the attack, his balance perfect on the balls of his feet, ready to move. "I'm not going to go easy on you, little queen."

Lucy laughed, twirling her own blade effortlessly. "I expected no less."

Then Edmund attacked in a series of down-chopping blows, from which Lucy darted back. The king swept his sword in a crescent moon and Lucy blocked, bringing them body-to-body. She realised her mistake a moment later as he tried to force her to the ground, using his superior strength. Lucy knew she could win, so she broke away, eyeing her brother with wary respect. He heard delicate laughter and applauding and had to fight a growl when he glanced over at their accumulated crowd. Dolled up ladies, in their jewels and fancy gowns had no place in the training yards.

In the blink of an eye he darted in, catching Lucy's sword with his own as he locked them hilt-to-hilt and jerked it out of her hands.

Lucy blinked again and she felt the cool blade resting at the base of her throat. She stared dumbstruck at Edmund, who hadn't even broken a sweat and was smirking. "I told you I wouldn't go easy on you." Then he paused. "You didn't tell Pete that Ari was here." He said it as a statement, but the question hung in the air.

Lucy's eyes softened as they drew in line, walking over to the fence where their admirers gathered. "What would Pete have done if he knew she was here and you did not capture her? We both know he wants her dead; he views her and the witch as one and the same."

Ed felt the tightening around his chest loosen. Lucy, Aslan be praised, did not want her dead. That meant at least in some respect, she did not believe that Ari was evil. "Thank you Lu, I owe you one."

"Ed! Lu!" It was Susan, a smile across her face and a dryad by her side.

Edmund recognised her immediately – Rayla, the pretty dryad he had danced with two nights ago. While Susan was dressed in a beautiful gown the same dark crimson of her lips trimmed with snow-white fur, Rayla wore thick leathers dyed a strange pinkish-brown, with ermine fur around her neck and cuffs. She did not seem bothered by the slush that splashed against her boots.

With a grin Lucy leant against the fence and Ed burst out laughing as their sister's eyes narrowed at her attire. Appropriate for a soldier and not a female, let alone a queen of Narnia.

"King Edmund," Rayla said softly, addressing him directly, her moss green eyes looking up into his much darker ones. Curly wisps of her strangely-coloured hair stuck to her tanned face, her long curling eyelashes fluttering slightly. "I would if honoured if thee doth dine with me this night-evening."

He stiffened, feeling Susan's eyes on him immediately. "Of course, my lady." The words left his lips unbidden and he felt more than saw Lucy turn to him. He did not need to look to read the expression in her stormy eyes. _What of Arianna? _Her eyes said.

…..

She turned her head slightly; the diamonds that trailed from her ears tickled her neck where the plush white fur did not cover. One hand tapped against the arm of her glittering throne, the other held the silver goblet, filled to the brim with wine. Raising it to her lips she took a sip, watching as the leaders of her army prepared to leave, talking quietly amongst themselves.

There had been many questions as to Myriel's absence, but that was only to be expected. It was for that reason that Arianna had the young dryad act as the wine-server. So they would see that the dryads had not left their army. Zor, her general, had been adamant about that. And they feared the hulking black minotaur almost as much as they feared her.

Another sip. It was not enough to even affect her mind, for it was diluted by the water she'd channelled into it.

She felt the tingle of magic the moment before the doors swung wide open.

She paused, the goblet to her lips as he entered in a swirl of dark cloak and fiery eyes, the woman beside him serene. Dark and imposing, she'd never seen anything quite like him, though at the same time he seemed familiar.

Though she would have remembered him had she seen him before; well over seven feet he towered over even the minotaurs. He was, perhaps, even taller than Jadis had been. With honey-coloured skin and mahogany hair he looked like a figure from myth. Save for those crimson orbs that burnt into her own as she looked at him over the rim of her goblet.

Her tapping finger stilled.

She heard Fleetfoot's low growl, the snow-wolf's lips were pulled back over viciously sharp teeth. But Arianna's eyes did not leave the stranger's. She knows he was assessing her, seizing her up. She did not stand as he approached, nor did he bow to her.

Then he stopped.

There was silence.

The stranger swept his arms wide. "My Queen of ice and Water, I bid you good morn," his voice was rich, like the summer sun. Cloyingly sweet; practised. She narrowed her eyes at him. In the goblet she saw herself as he must have seen her; a young girl not yet in her twentieth year, a glittering crown of crystal upon her head, sitting in a throne that was made for one much larger than she. But she knew the power shone in her emerald gaze, and she was not dwarfed by the immensity of the room. Instead she commanded the attention of all – including he who stood before her. One who had fire in his veins, just as she had water. He was a sorcerer, that much she did not doubt. "They call me Corradyn, he of the Flame. And I have a proposition for you."

_Intriguing._ She raised her brows to show she was listening, but still she did not speak, looking down at him from her position on the throne.

His crimson eyes glinted. "You are a child born of magic; for it brought you into this world. And your presence did awaken me; you are destined to rule by my side. Fire and water, as it was meant to be since the dawn of time. Rule my kingdom by my side, Arianna of Charn."

Arianna stood, her skirts pooling down the stairs, a waterfall of pale blue silks and pure white furs. She placed the goblet on the arm of the throne. "Your kingdom? What kingdom, pray tell is that?"

"Narnia," he says, evenly, coolly. "I ruled here long before Jadis came; I was here long before she destroyed the beautiful world of Charn."

"Look around you, Corradyn of the Flame, this is my kingdom." She spread her arms wide, as he had done only moments before. "And as for Narnia, that will be mine too."

"Be wary, Arianna of Charn, for I will not make this offer again," he said simply.

Around the room she saw her men and women lay their hands on their weapons, lights blazing in the palms of Elyon. The snow fae was drifting closer to her side – a movement she was sure was not missed by Corradyn.

She saw his crimson eyes move from dryad to fae, from talking wolf to minotaur, his lips tightening. The woman's face by his side turned in an instant from serene to livid.

"Leave, Corradyn of the Flame," she said softly. "Leave and do not return.

The irony did not escape her; for it was the second time within a month that she had bid three men to leave her domain. More than Jadis had in her entire reign.

…..

Asura frowned, not caring about the lines that appeared on her face as she did so. She had no fear for any lines of age – for she would live for as long as there was water in Narnia. She did not believe that the Ice Queen would seek to conquer them purely for the point of conquest – there had to be something more. And as Pete looked at the maps once more her thoughts drifted.

Perhaps the White Witch had influenced her decision's at first, for the informant had told them that Arianna had been only eight years old when Jadis had entered her mind. But she could not understand why, if the young woman was free of the witch's control, she still followed through with her plans. Plans that would see her take over Narnia. She was smart – Asura did not bother denying that. For it showed in the Ice Queen's tactics; attacking the outlying villages where the produce was grown, cutting off their supplies. Yet she managed to do it all from the safety of her ice castle.

And her troops were loyal to her.

"What of Jenari, the informant?" Pete asked and the naiad blinked, not realised he had been talking to her.

"Pardon?"

Peter narrowed his eyes at her. "Were you not listening to me Asura? Your king?"

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up Pete. What were you saying?"

"That we should question the informant one more time, to see if we can find anything out about Arianna of Charn; every little bit of information counts now," he said with a sigh. And it almost broke Asura's heart to hear the ache in his voice, the resignation that was so at odds with his determined character. "Do you think that he is a double agent?"

Asura shook her head – for she understood the term, he had taught her about them once. Long ago when he had told her about the war in his home country, Spare Oom. "Edmund's spies have been tracking his every movement; he has talked to none outside Cair Paravel."

Peter observed her silently for a moment, then a grin broke across his face. "What was it you used to call Edmund? Dark-handsome-king?"

Asura glared at him. Though she no longer spoke like any other dryad, when she had first met the Pevensies she had. Trust Pete to bring it up at such a time. "What's the matter, High King? Jealous?"

…..

Corradyn snarled, only dimly aware of the fire that raced along his arms. It was as if he were fire given flesh, the raging inferno reflecting the rage that boiled within.

But when he turned his attention to the young queen he saw something else, something darker, something older. Something familiar. He felt Jadis of Charn's mind, trapped within Arianna. He knew the spell – a last resort in case of death. To link the mind of herself and the host, the host had to be willing, devoted, a host that would be willing to give their life. But something had changed, he realised looking at the queen who looked down upon him with eyes of emerald ice. For no longer was Arianna merely the host of Jadis; she was the prison. And yet, she ruled still. It seemed that conquest was in her blood.

Such a shame that she had to die.

"If you are not with me, then you are against me," he said softly.

…..

Arianna watched the man leave with icy eyes, knowing she had made an enemy of him. But she was relieved on some level; glad that the source of her uneasiness had shown itself.

A threat.

One that could destroy her.

She had seen it in her eyes that he would try; but there was something else in those crimson orbs. Recognition, perhaps.


	12. Chapter 12

**Motives revealed, questions answered…dun dun dun! Also, a bit of a heads up, things get a bit gruesome in the last part…**

**Chapter 12**

The castle was just as he remembered – built into the side of the mountain, shrouded by enchantments. And from his position on the throne that rose from the ground like vengeful flames, he fumed.

Lilyn sat on the stairs, the midnight fall of her dress pooled downwards as she rested her head lovingly on her knee – a pretty decoration with vermillion eyes and tempting lips. As a woman she had been beautiful but his blood, which would enhance ones greatest ability, made her near irresistible. She would be his greatest tool when the emissary's flooded in, seeking to join him.

And they would come.

He could not make his move yet; not against the impertinent Arianna of Charn or the Kings and Queens of Narnia. He had yet to amass his army; for his followers had dwindled in his absence. And while he gathered troops he would break down their defences one by one, starting with the pretty little Ice Queen who had entrapped Jadis within her mind.

"Dryad!" he beckoned.

She appeared before him, her eyes on the floor. She was one of his favourites, a pretty little thing so willing to serve. One who had been a servant of the Ice Queen, she would know of any weaknesses or another who would know, for he had perceived none.

"What do you know of Arianna of Charn, the Ice Queen who holds the witch inside her mind?"

The dryad titled her head to the side for a moment, her lips pulling downwards in a frown as she thought.

"Who might know of her weaknesses?" He clarified. The very thought of the young woman caused his blood to boil; for she had dismissed him with such each. Obviously the witch had not educated her thoroughly.

"There is a northerner-brother, named Faelar," she said in her musical voice, one that perhaps used to be lively. Then she shook her head. "He is her protector-guide, he would die before betrayed her." Her brows furrowed once more in thought. "Jenari, perhaps he would know."

"My lord, forgive the interruption," the voice came from the side of the room, where the others sat. The man stood, bowing deeply before speaking once more. "For Jenari of the North is within Cair Paravel; he no longer serves the Ice Queen."

Corradyn nodded thoughtfully, a plan forming in his ancient mind. It was most opportune that this Jenari was not within the enchantress's castle, for then the dryad would be trapped within by the pesky enchantment. One kept strong by the witch's presence within Arianna's mind. "Go to Cair Paravel, my child. Retrieve the information then dispatch of him."

"Yes my lord-king," the dryad bowed once more, no hesitation in her voice.

While he awaited her return he had alliances to rekindle.

…..

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

The sound of dagger after dagger hitting the moving targets of the training grounds penetrated Faelar's hearing. And then his eyes widened as she came into his view, twirling through the snow-dappled courtyard. It looked as if her entire body was made of glass or perhaps moving ice as she twirled her throwing knives about her fingers with ease. Her body was like that of a dancer, twirling with a beautiful grace as she flipped backwards.

Then she paused, her eyes locking onto his, her chest heaving. In the corner of his vision he saw part of the wall move. Looking again he saw one of the snow wolves had stepped forward, growling low.

Her eyes were like brilliant green crystals. They glittered: clear and luminous and contained a cold, pure light as if she could see through anything. If not for her honey-coloured skin everything about her spoke of the north. The dark leathers she wore, trimmed with the plush white fur of the snow-wolves who served her. Had she been as pale as Jadis, with hair the colour of starlight, none could have guessed she was from another world.

If only the dark king had not ensnared her very being. Though she did not speak of it, she did not need to. For he could see it in her eyes. It was he who gave her the strength to overcome the witch – though she would never truly be free of her.

She had become her own queen – no longer a mere shadow of what Jadis had been.

And she would take Narnia for the north – for they wished nothing more than somewhere more to live. She understood that in a way Jadis had not. The minotaurs and dwarves wished for more than a frigid wasteland. The minotaurs and dwarves who had raised her.

In an odd sense it was admirable, for it was her attempt to give back. She simply did not care for the lives that may be lost – for she saw no peaceful course.

"Why do you stare?" her voice was cold, cutting. But he was used to it. Even though there was no way for the witch to take over she kept herself detatched, cold. She became the Ice Queen. He no longer remembered the young toddler who had handled a blade far before she could lift it. He had only dim memories of the dark-haired child running through icy corridors, long before Jadis had curbed her bubbly temperament.

But in that child's place stood a woman. A brave woman who had faced down the most powerful sorcerer that Narnia had ever seen. One that Jadis had defeated only through trickery.

"You've grown up Arianna," he said softly.

"I've been grown up for a while," Arianna twirled her wrist and a ball of water gathered in her palm, drawing inwards from the rain. She then clenched the tips of her fingers and the ball hardened slowly with her movement, becoming ice all the way through. It hovered inches above her open palm before she flung her arm out. The ball shattered against a tree, the shards of ice lodging in the soft bark. "Winter is drawing to a close."

"Your followers will not turn to the flame sorcerer, for what can he offer them that you cannot?" she was worried, he knew. For that was what caused her to train so vigorously, the snow wolves looking on with their ever watchful eyes. For Fleetfoot had taken it upon himself to assign two of his finest warriors as her body guards.

"It is not what he can offer them, it is what he can persuade them to _believe_ he can offer them," she moved towards him, the two wolves peeling themselves from the wall. Shadowing her every step. "We must change our plans; we are in no position to attack Narnia directly."

He glanced at her sidelong. A change of heart perhaps? He admitted that, though while he did not agree with all, her plans were effective. Her plan to kill High King Peter would have worked, as would have her plan to draw out the Narnians army and have them attack her castle.

But too many things had changed. The appearance of Corradyn had thrown everything.

"I can hear your thoughts ticking over Faelar," she said softly. "And the truth of it is that I have no idea what to do. I need to speak with Moonshade."

…..

Lucy sighed, wearied beyond the nineteen years she had seen. The words of the ancient texts before her eyes had begun to blur, the images no longer making sense. She glanced across at the candle, which was only a single flame in a pool of melted wax.

"It does not matter how many times you read it, it won't change Lu," Susan said with a soft sigh as she sat beside her younger sister.

"There must be something that I've missed," Lucy replied, flicking another page of the heavy parchment over. She loved the private library of Cair Paravel, for it hid within in the oldest of books in Narnia, with texts that had forgotten by all but their long-dead writers. But in that moment she had grown weary of books, weary of the beautiful calligraphy that had been so painstakingly written out. "It only mentions briefly that to transfer the mind of one into the host, there has to be a connection between the host and the caster. But it does not explain what that connection is…"

"The connection must be one that runs deep-true," the soft voice from the shadows said. "A connection of the body-mind-soul."

Lucy regarded the dryad queen, who still wore plush white furs despite the late hour. The dryad's twinkling eyes were darting between the two young women, something akin to cunning in them. Her wild mass of curls cast a patchwork of lines across her small pale face – she was something wild, something unpredictable. But her words, Lucy knew, were true.

"Thou art the insightful-knowing one, Lucy Pevensie," the dryad said softly. "Thee should see what be before thineself."

"What do you want?" Susan's voice was icy cold – a good imitation of Arianna of Charn's. But in that moment Lucy wanted nothing more than to throttle her older sister for speaking, for immediately the dryad's eyes went hard, Lucy could see her withdrawing.

"Forgive me, beautiful-queen-child, I had not meant to intrude," her voice was almost mocking, as if she knew some great secret that they did not. Then she disappeared as quickly as she had appeared, her soft footsteps fading into the night as if she had never been there.

"Well that was rude," Susan scoffed, turning her head to look out the window of the small alcove that Lucy had situated herself in. "Emissary or not, I don't believe she has the right to sneak about the castle. She is obviously working for the Ice Queen."

Lucy refrained from retorting, her patience wearing thin.

"Perhaps she will kill us all in our sleep."

"And do no doubt that she could, Su," Lucy said softly, wishing her sister would think of something other than her parties. But even as she spoke to her, Susan was absent-mindedly stroking her raven's wing hair, her eyes not really seeing what was before her. Lucy shook her head, almost sadly. It was Ed she needed to speak with, he would understand the gravity. And perhaps he could understand the dryad's cryptic remark. A connection of the mind, body and soul? A connection that was so obvious that she could not see it?

She wracked her brain, looking down at the images before her once more.

Until a thought struck her.

Not a soul had entered the private library since she had been in there, save for Susan. She would have seen if any had for he had a clear view of the doorway and the corridor beyond. So what had the dryad been doing in the library before? What had_ she_ been looking for?

…..

Edmund's vision blurred; the haze of the room dulling his senses. The heavily spiced wine was nothing like the bitter mead that he and the soldiers drank; it was a flavoured concoction that left a burning through his body.

One he was quite familiar with now.

But it was not Arianna of Charn that sat across the table from him, with the firelight playing across soft features. It was the pretty cherry blossom dryad, Rayla, who was smiling coyly up at him from beneath sooty lashes.

A slight pink blush had risen in her cheeks, on that looked so much like Arianna's he found himself inching closer to her. "I have always admired thee, mine lord-king," she said softly, her voice a gentle whisper, raising the golden goblet to her lips. It was a sensual movement, slow and deliberate. And he watched, transfixed, as those soft lips parted. "I have always hoped that thee would take me for thine bride-wife-queen."

So beautiful.

Those beautiful eyes, the colour of sparkling emeralds, so different from any others. He reaches out and brushes a stray curl from her face, not as soft as he remembered, but his wine-addled brain did not dwell on it. Not with her soft breath blossoming across his face. "I could rule by thine side, Edmund-love. We wouldn't need anyone else. Thee doth deserve to rule, Edmund."

There was something in the back of his mind, something akin to alarm bells. But all thoughts flew from his mind the moment her soft hand took his from across the table, guiding him from his chair. He could see the wine that glistened on her lips, oh so tempting…

"Arianna," it was a breathy whisper that left his lips the moment before he pulled her towards him.

Her lips were not as soft as before, yet more than wiling as they pressed against hers. Warm, almost hot. Something was wrong, he knew, but he couldn't think with the wine coursing through his brain and Ari in his arms.

Then it was as if he was burning, as if a fire was consuming him from inside. Burning painfully, cracking away at his very soul until he pulled back, a roaring in his ears.

"My lord-king?" her eyes were blinking up at him, the dull moss green. No longer the sparkling emerald of Arianna's eyes.

It was not Arianna. It was Rayla.

"Leave," he growled, turning from the dryad. He was not Peter; he would not waste time on false pleasantries. He rested his forearm on the mantelpiece, gazing into the blaze in which Aslan had materialised as the door slammed closed.

His mind was still buzzing, his temples throbbing.

He had seen Arianna's face in place of the dryad's. He pressed a hand to his face. Dear Aslan what was happening to him?

…..

Though her mind was closed off, every so often Arianna's emotions would trickle through to Jadis.

And a strange trickle of longing and desire whenever someone mentioned Edmund; an emotion that turned white hot when she saw him.

She had been shocked when she'd seen, through Arianna's eyes, Corradyn stride into _her_ meeting hall. When she'd cast the spell over him she had never expected to be killed. It was an intricate spell; one that required the blood of another to complete the spell. And it had been Arianna's blood she'd used, though she thought the child to be dead.

She was stronger than she ever had been in life, with Arianna's magic feeding her. Jadis knew what she had to do; all she had to do was wait for the opportune time.

And then she could take both Arianna and Edmund down. She would crush them.

…..

Jenari woke, his senses alert, his blood pounding heavily in his ears. But not yet did he open his eyes. To calm the beating of his heart he concentrated on the silken feel of the sheets that covered him, imagining the deep crimson that shimmered in the early morning sunlight. He pictured the great chandelier that hung from the ceiling of his new chambers, the hundreds of crystals casting beautiful rainbows across the stone walls.

And then he heard it; the soft breathing of another.

And then he lit the lantern by his bed. The room was illuminated; light flaring from corner to corner, deep shadows stretching across the wall.

He saw the figure, clothing in shadows; peel itself from the window frame. Curtains fluttering around the distinctly feminine form, lithe limbs that seemed to shimmer in the flickering light.

No, he amended his thoughts, it was the glittering pigment of her bare hands and feet that was shimmering softly. A dryad.

But she did not wear the torn forest green leathers or feathers; instead she wore black, dark leather encasing slender limbs. All this he noticed in one glance, and then his gaze rested on her face; his eyes widening in shock. His breath caught in his throat.

"Myria?" Perhaps she was a ghost, summoned by his very thoughts of her. But she seemed tangible; so real.

"Myria?" the question left him once more and he moved to embrace her, sitting up in his bed. But something stopped him. There was something wrong; he'd seen her set alight and dragged away on the back of a horse when they'd attacked the Narnians village. He'd seen her tree in the forest, twisted and blackened with no fresh leaves.

Then she stepped forward, the light illuminating her face. Illuminating those brilliant red eyes; eyes the colour of blood. "Jenari," her voice, which had once whispered sweet nothings in his ears, was void of anything remotely caring. There was no laughter in her eyes, no smile tucked into the corner of her lips. It was as if the very essence of Myria had been sucked out and replaced with a stranger. But still…he could not help but reaching out for her, holding her arms out to him.

A grin cracked across her face, her eyes brightening and she leaped onto the bed with him, smothering his face with kisses. The uneasiness which had risen within him was dispelled immediately.

"Arianna seems so different-changed," Myria smiled up at him, snuggling into his arms like she used to.

"The one that Jadis was so besotted with, the dark king, has captured what remains of her heart," he told her softly, not expecting her to stiffen. He would have thought that she would have been happy for their friend. "And I do believe he feels the same."

"Why are thee not with her?"

"I blamed her for you…for you getting hurt," he whispered. It was the very question that had kept him awake at night, tossing and turning in his comfortable new bed, miles away from the north where he had been raised. "And I betrayed her."

"Do not fear Jenari-love, for it will all end soon," she whispered softly in his ear, stroking his hair.

He never saw the dagger that pierced through his shoulder blades, tearing through his lungs, seeking to pierce his heart. In Arianna's service he had dealt enough wounds to know when it was fatal.

"…Myria?" the name was nothing but a cough, blood trickling from his mouth to his chin as he slumped backwards. Agony seared through him; he knew within moments he would be dead. Even Queen Lucy's magical cordial would not be able to save him.

And the last thing he saw was his love's face, looking down upon him with nothing but bland indifference in her crimson eyes.

…..

Somewhere deep within her, the old Myria mourned his loss as she watched his deep red blood seep into the luxurious sheets. Like a blossom opening up. But the new Myria, bound to Corradyn through his blood rejoiced; pleased that she had done as her master wished. She left the dagger on the bed – a beautifully crafted dwarven dagger which looked as if it had been carved of ice. Then she jumped through the open window, the only evidence that she had ever been there was Jenari's still-warm body.

…..

"The time is coming, my queen," Moonshade's dark eyes did not waver from her face. "I see it in the stars."

"You are not mistaken?" Arianna knew better, but she could not help but ask the centaur who served her willingly.

Moonshade shook her head, almost sadly. "The signs are all present; tis written. You must act soon; for if you hesitate then Narnia shall be overrun with fire and death. Like a plague his influence will spread throughout the land."

Uneasiness gripped her, for she understood the centaur's words perfectly. And she could almost feel Jadis's glee at her impending doom. Did Jadis forget that if she died then they both did?

…..

Taisa landed in a crouch, her feet perfectly balanced on the branch, her sparkling emerald eyes sweeping the small clearing, wide with shock. She was concealed by the sweeping leaves that hung down from the mighty branches, the leaves the same deep green as her eyes. She could only hope that the wind, still bitter from the winter, did not change. She felt the branch did lightly as Aia landed on the branch beside her, and she felt the naiad tense at the sight before them.

It was on King Edmund's orders that they were scouting the northern woods, close to the border.

She had seen death before; she had seen the light leave a man's eyes as he drew his final breath. Her own sister-mother was a healer; she had seen the gruesome wounds of those who sought the dryad-queen-mother's help. But nothing could have prevented her for the sight-horror before her, nor the sounds-cries that assaulted her ears as the rain poured down.

Beautiful, clear droplets mixed with the bright red of fresh blood, splashing across the forest floor. In a horrific pool of red, unseeing eyes stared up at her. The bodies were mutilated, not one left intact. Bone was bright against the monochromatic red that covered the clearing. Wagons overturned and shattered, with the horses that pulled them nowhere in sight; a small sparkling hand visible beneath the cloth. The body more than twenty feet away, still twitching. The soft squelching sound of flesh tearing, of razor sharp teeth ripping through the unyielding skin of the dead. The scuttling of feet on the wet ground; the pitter patter of rain upon thousands of leaves. It assaulted her senses.

Beady, black eyes in small faces of the palest green were darting around, as hands ending in crude talons gripped chunks of flesh. Blood dripped from open mouths, small grunts of satisfaction leaving those gnarled mouths. And it was not just the dryads and centaurs that they ate. Limbs were torn from the fallen goblins, gnawed into with vigour.

Taisa felt disgust-horror rise within her body, pure horror at the massacre-slaughter before her. She counted five and ten bodies before she could count no more; she could not look at each face, covered in blood with parts missing. She felt the bile threaten to rise as the goblins scuttled about, their twig-thin frames covered with little more than loincloths. Limbs stained with blood, a sudden growl erupted from one as it pounced. Sharp teeth tore into the shoulder of another as it howled, trying to rid itself of its attacker.

She couldn't look as its head was ripped from its shoulders, black blood spraying the ground. But she could not escape the ravenous cries as they scurried, drawn by the promise of fresh meat.

Her gaze paused on one of the bodies; a young dryad she recognised, the body of another fallen over her small frame, their blood mingling at their feet. Dried blood the colour of rust was caked over her forehead, obscuring the glittering pigment across her forehead. A young dryad whose tree resided in the same forest-home as her own, planted not a hundred years before. Still a child-baby.

And in that instant she knew what had happened. The young dryad had been a part of a caravan taking supplies to their outlying villages, to the survivors of the Ice Queen's attacks. They had not expected the goblins to raid them, for the things had not left the northern mountains since the White Witch came into power.

They never had a hope-chance.

"We must leave," Aia hissed her hair, the colour of the waters that surrounded Cair Paravel, plastered to her small face, her lips pressed together thinly. "Now."

Taisa tore her eyes from the face of the young dryad, whose lower body had been torn away, her innards spread across the ground. She was thankful-grateful for the rain, for it kept the smell from reaching them. She looked across at the naiad, whom she had met only two weeks before. Then she nodded, turning to assess the next tree, judging the distance between the two branches. Her muscles tensed and then she was running. She pushed off the branch, her foot slipping slightly, her arms outstretched, the cool rain caressing her skin.

Her eyes widened in dread, even as she flew through the air.

It was too far.

And then she was falling, the branch just out of her grasp. She hit the ground with a dull thud.

There was silence for a moment, as if the very world seemed to take a breath. She saw Aia's eyes, up in the tree, as she looked down on her in horror. Then she felt those beady, wild eyes turn on her.

She could feel their hunger in the air. Then a low growl, a sharp clicking.

She drew her sword.

Aia landed by her side with a soft thud, her left foot sinking into a ribcage with a soft squelch.

The goblins lurched forward as one.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned her back to Aia's. It was an endless swarm; the goblins came from the trees, their bloodied limbs seeking purchase over the wet ground.

A hiss of pain left her lips as razor claws tore through the soft flesh of her right arm, the blood praying across the goblins face. In the next moment her sword had slashed through the creatures chest.

But still they came.

Everywhere she looked he saw the green-grey faces, mouths curled up in vicious snarls. She could see the droplets of red blood mixing with black, fighting against the downpour as it flew through the air. Her breath came in short pants as he cut down goblin after goblin – there was no technique used. Merely brute strength. No room to manoeuvre, no time to think.

"Fuck!" Aia's curse startled her, and it was quickly followed by a series of pained cries in rapid succession – too high pitched and guttural to be the naiad's. She felt the air change as rage and filled the pale-skinned water spirit.

Taisa nodded in understanding, knowing Aia watched her. She ducked, pressing herself into the gore that coated the ground, water seeping through the leathers he wore. She watched in slow motion as a single goblin leapt forward, it's dripping claws extended to gauge her eyes from their sockets. Then its beady eyes widened as it froze, suspended in the air as the naiad controlled the water droplets that clung to its body. Then it flew backwards with a pained squeal.

She felt the water rushing over her like a shockwave, pushing the goblins back. Then she stood swiftly, standing in the centre of the small clearing. The calm before the storm-fury. Even as she thought it he could see the goblins rising once more, preparing to surge forward like a wave of death.

But across the small clearing heaped with bodies, dryads, centaurs, fauns and goblins alike, Aia grinned at her. Then ocean blue eyes widened, her mouth open in a silent cry, fear lining her every feature.

Taisa flew forward, propelled by whatever had struck her, her emerald eyes widening in surprise as pain tore through her back. Her breathing was laboured, her chest tight, her very limbs heavy with exhaustion. But it did not stop her from stumbling forward and gripping Aia's arms, even as the screeching of the goblins lanced through her brain. Blood had splattered across the naiad's beautiful face, a macabre mask over a face that was frozen with shock-pain-horror.

Taisa felt the grimace that touched her lips, even as blood trickled from her mouth and down her chin. Above the clamour of the goblins she heard the droplet fall to the ground, mockingly.

Then her hand dropped, gripping the crude blackened goblin blade with two hands, tanned hands that were slick with blood and trembling. She pulled. She could not stop the pained cry that tore through her lips as the pain assaulted her, white-hot agony stealing through her body.

The rain beat down upon them.

Those ocean blue eyes met her own for a moment. Scared-terrified. Her vision began to flicker and darken. For so long the goblins had disappeared, that it had been forgotten that their blades could kill a dryad. She felt Aia draw one of her blades.

A true Knight of Narnia.

Pain engulfed her; the light beckoned.

She hoped Aslan awaited her.

She heard Aia's fearless cry as she met the goblin horde head on.

But the soft splatter of the rain was the last thing she felt.

**p.s. what do you think about the pace? Too fast? Too slow? Don't forget to review ; )**


	13. Chapter 13

**To Allie Danger; the next chapter will be full to the brim with Arianna/Edmund goodness, but in the meantime, enjoy : )**

**Chapter 13**

Arianna cast a critical eye over the forge, dwarves and minotaurs sweating over the anvils, the clinking of metal striking metal was a beautiful melody to her ears. Rows upon rows of finished armour and beautifully crafted weapons, deadly sharp and dangerous.

She picked up the delicate fall of her ivory dress, so the hem did not drag in the soot that marred the beautiful ice floor. She saw them watching her out of the corner of their eyes; a mixture of fear and admiration shining in the orbs of the outcasts of Narnia.

"My Queen," the dwarf bowed low before her, the tip of his long grey beard kissing the floor. "Your armour has been completed, just as you asked."

"Show it to me," she inclined her head, silently ordering him to lead the way. It was hard to refrain from grinning with excitement.

Through one of the side doors he led her, the two snow-wolves following close behind.

"My Queen," the dark minotaur stood at attention when she entered, raising his battle axe in salutation.

She couldn't stop the gasp that left her mouth, her eyes widening in awe of the stunning armour. Unlike Jadis she was not foolish enough to protect herself only with magic.

"It will protect you well," the deep rumble of the wolf's voice resonated through her body. She could picture his dark eyes narrowing in appreciation, his lip curling back over his maw in a grim parody of a smile.

She wondered idly what Edmund would think if he saw her dressed in the armour – her daggers raised and glittering like ice, the crystal crown atop her head, her dark curls tumbling over her shoulders. She imagined those dark eyes of his darkening even more with lust.

A shudder ran through her body, something that could almost be called heat tingled within her.

_Bang. _

She tensed, her knives in her hands in a single movement, her feet placed the perfect width apart, her teeth bared in challenge. All thought of Edmund and his handsome eyes vanished. The growls of the wolves filled the small room as they crouched low to the ground, their expressions ferocious, saliva dripped from their bared fangs.

Raised voices echoed through the forge; the clanging of metal as armour was dropped. Voices raised in anger.

Then the doors burst open.

"My lady, one of Corradyn's men has been captured," Faelar's voice was ragged, his chest heaving. His pale blonde hair fell messily over his face, plastered to his forehead with sweat that was in contrast to the chilly weather within the castle.

She straightened, smoothing out her gown as if nothing had occurred. _Finally. _She inclined her head to the dwarf and minotaur, glancing once more at the shimmering set of armour.

…..

He could only imagined how Lucy must have felt – pouring over the ancient texts for weeks on end. Already his eyes had begun to tire, and he had been reading only for a few hours. And thus far he had discovered nothing. He was agitated; for his scouts had failed to return with the reports.

Surely Arianna had not ordered them killed – for there had been no reported movement within her castle or immediate lands. It was almost that with the ending of winter, all activity ceased.

He hoped fervently that she was still out of the witch's control.

He knew Arianna was strong, but the witch was cunning.

His mind was awhirl; for the informant, Jenari of the North, had been found dead in his bed. The instrument of his killing was a dwarven-crafted blade; made from beautiful crystal that looked like glass or ice. So similar to Arianna's knives that to one who had not spent nights examining them would not have noticed the slight differences. The knife found in Jenari's bed had been wider, less delicate – a cruder version of the Ice Queen's.

To test his theory he had sliced his skin open, at the base of his thumb, next to the shiny scar that Arianna's blade had created. It had been painful – but there was no bitter kiss of winter, no searing pain that sent shivers through his very core.

He looked at his hand briefly, where only one scar showed – the other cut had healed when Lucy had given him her cordial.

No, it definitely had not been Arianna's blade which had killed the informant. But someone who wished them to believe it was; but why would someone want that? Did they wish to incite a war?

He was not so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice the door opening, and he was on his feet in an instant, his sword gripped easily in his hands.

"Put that away, Ed," Lucy admonished, raising a single brow at his jumpiness. "I have something you might wish to see."

He paused, assessing his younger sister. She was dressed for riding, in a loose-fitting tunic and breeches, her favourite boots polished to a shine. To ward off the bitter chill in the air she wore a simple cloak; nothing of her clothing denoted her rank, save for the dagger strapped to her belt and the small golden vial of cordial that hung from her neck.

"Sorry, Lu," glad that it was not Susan who had interrupted him. He would not be able to handle her nagging at upsetting Rayla – in fact he had not seen the pretty dryad in a few days. "What is it?"

From her belt pouch the young queen produced a clear vial; filled to the brim with a deep vermillion liquid. "Dwarven wine infused with cherry blossom. It is what you and Rayla were drinking the other night."

Edmund snorted, if she were trying to highlight the fact that Rayla was a cherry blossom dryad she was foolish to think he did not know that already. "What of it, Lu? Cut to the point." He knew his frustration and annoyance showed in the hardness of his eyes and the slight frown that creased his brow.

"Our stocks of dwarven wine have no infusions; especially not cherry blossom," she told him softly, a blush suffusing across her cheeks. "It plays with one's mind. It makes any face take the form of the one you desire most."

Edmund froze; realising the implications of what she had said. One by one, the thoughts fell into place in his mind. Rayla, the pretty unassuming little dryad, had tried to drug him. She succeeded in drugging him; and if not for Aslan's intervention he would have done anything she asked of him. _I could rule by thine side…_her words echoed through his mind. And it disturbed him to realise how much he would have liked Arianna to say those words to him.

"Rayla has disappeared; even her queen does not know where she has gone," Lucy sat on the edge of his desk, twirling a stray lock of hair that had escaped her messy bun. "Susan is beside herself; she blames herself. For she mentioned in passing to Rayla that you had taken a liking to Arianna."

Edmund had no words. _Why were women so crazy?_

"Anyway, I'm going hunting with Asura and Pete, I just thought I would come and tell I left," she kissed him lightly on the cheek before drifting out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the books once more.

He sat, pulling out some of the sketches he'd done. Jadis and Arianna; he frowned at the pictures. In comparison they looked quite similar, save the colouring Arianna could have been the witch when she was younger.

He looked at the vial of wine. In retrospect he should have been more careful; for women had tried to seduce Peter before using magic and herbs. But never before had one gotten so close to _him_.

The door opened once more, the draft ruffled some of the papers, the candles flickering.

"I thought you were going hunting, Lu."

The last thing he saw was the drawing of Arianna on his desk before his vision was engulfed with darkness, a sharp pain lancing through his skull.

…..

Arianna tilted her head to the side, seizing up the prisoner who was bound to the wall. Shackled to the great expanse of ice that was the prison cell. His eyes bore into her own – an expression she had never seen on the face of a faun marked his features. One of pure contempt and mocking.

All that stood between them was the slender silver bars.

"His eyes are they colour of old blood," Faelar hissed by her side. "Like the rest of them."

She did not respond; merely studied the faun. There was something off about him, it was not the lack of fear of being captured, nor was it the hatred that rolled off him in waves. It was the glint of something _more_ in his eyes. As if he was looking not only at her, but into her very soul. She knew that fauns were known to be good judges of character, but it was unnerving.

And she'd not known that Corradyn of the Flame had fauns in his service. And the faun before her was a true follower; his crimson eyes were a testament to that.

"What does your master want?" she asked him, opening the cell door. She knew she did not intimidate in the same way Jadis did – with her sheer height and cutting gaze. Instead she had her own subtle ways, a commanding aura that even a follower of Corradyn could not deny. Then she saw his smirk.

"You know what he wants, little Ice Queen," the faun was baiting her, she knew. Was he a fool? He could not leave the castle, for he had entered the frozen lake before he had been captured. "He will succeed where you have failed; he will take Narnia by any means necessary. He will do what you could not. You are a failure; just like the White Witch."

Arianna's laughter was bitter and cutting and she watched as the faun flinched back from it. Perhaps Corradyn knew he would be captured – perhaps the faun was a message. "He believes he can just appear and defeat both me and the Pevensies? Aslan as well?"

"King Edmund the Just, Knight of Narnia is the only true threat, the other children are weak and do not see he darkness," the faun raised his brows at her. "But it doesn't matter what you do, your precious little kingling will be dead before the week sees its end."

It was if time had frozen; and in that moment she saw Corradyn's plan in its brilliant detail. He would capture Edmund in hope to lure her there, using the faun to deliver the message. If he had misjudged Arianna he would still kill Edmund, for it would weaken the Pevensies – indeed it was similar to her original plan of killing Peter. But if the bait worked – if she ordered the faun to lead her to the castle – she would be taken there like a lamb to the slaughter.

And Arianna did not doubt that many of those under her rule, with her death, would flock to Corradyn.

And he would take Narnia – weakened as they were by Edmund's death. And Narnia would run red with the blood of all.

And she saw only one course of action.

She pressed her dagger to the faun's throat. "Tell me, servant," she hissed. "Where does his castle lie?"

The faun laughed. "My precious little girl, did you think I would just tell you? I think not…you will have to free by of the enchantment of your castle and allow me to lead you there."

Just as she thought. Such a shame that Corradyn had underestimated her. She cut through the delicate tendons of the fauns throat, watching as his eyes widened, a horrible choking sound filled the air. She plucked the strange little flower from his hair.

Then she turned, wiping her blade on her dress. A streak of bright red against snow-white.

"My Queen?" Faelar queried. "What are you to do?"

"Get me one of the dryads," she ordered, looking down at the flower – the like of which she had never seen. That little flower would lead them to Corradyn's castle and to Edmund.

…..

"Slow down, Lu!" Peter laughed, his voice disjointed, somewhere behind her in the trees.

Lucy just laughed, enjoying the feel of the wind against her face, the steady movement of the horse beneath her. The forests were beautiful, the beginning of spring showing in the fresh blooms that showered their heavenly scents down upon her, invigorating her senses.

The trickling of a waterfall tantalised her ears and she changed direction; cantering through the trees, her laughter echoing around her. The forests that surrounded Cair Paravel were her favourite place to be in the springtime.

And then she burst through the line of trees. She froze, her startled cry caught in her throat and she threw herself from the saddle, her cordial in her hand, already unscrewing the lid.

The woman was bleeding profusely from a multitude of wounds across her body, deep gorges, the white of her bone showing in places. There was not a scrap of clothing on what was left of her body, her ocean blue hair covering her chest, which was rising and falling only slightly. The sparkling blue pigment of her skin was dulled, like gunmetal, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. And then Lucy realised, as she knelt at the side of the small stream, that she knew the wounded naiad. It was one of Edmund's scouts.

"Don't touch her!" it was Asura's voice that rang through the clearing, loud and clear, startling Lucy. "Lucy, step back." The Captain of the Guard dismounted, her ocean blue eyes horrified as she joined Lucy at the side of the pool. "The waters will heal her."

The wounded naiad turned her tortured gaze to Asura, her lips trembling.

"Who did this to you?" The vehemence in Asura's voice shocked Lucy.

"Creatures of the night-dark," the naiad whispered, her voice cracking despite the soft tone. Lucy's heart shattered hearing the pain that was laced through each words and she saw Asura wince from the corner of her eye.

"Aia, where is Taisa?" Asura's voice was a breath, as if she were dreading the answer.

"They ate her," was all the naiad said before she sunk below the surface. Through the crystal clear waters Lucy could see her lying on the rocky riverbed, her blue hair floating about her body as she breathed.

"Creatures of the night?" Lucy had not heard the term before, but by the hardening of Asura's eyes, she had.

"Goblins," Asura hissed. "A plague to the land; they went into hibernation when the White Witch cast Narnia into winter."

"I thought the goblins had no leader, why would they attack us this close to Cair Paravel?" Peter's voice was strained and Lucy looked up at him, still astride his horse, to see his eyes set hard. "Has the Ice Queen enlisted them?"

Asura shook her head. "No…goblins are creatures of heat – they cannot abide by cold in any of its forms. They had a leader – long ago. Long before the White Witch came. A great sorcerer who had enslaved thousands."

"Aslan help us," Lucy breathed. "We need to get back to the Cair." She paused, standing, looking down at the naiad in the water.

"She will not leave the spring until she has healed," Asura told her. "She will be safe there; for goblins will not dare to touch water."

…..

Edmund woke to a splitting pain in his head, his hands shackled and chained to a wall of dark stone.

"So, you've awoken, _Just _King." The voice reached him through the shadows. "I'm must say, I expected someone…more. Someone like your brother perhaps."

Ed clenched his teeth, unwilling to rise to the bait. "What do you want from me?" Every word sent shards of pain through his head, spots dancing behind his eyes. Try as he might, he could not make out the figure that was standing but a few feet away from him, leaning casually against the wall.

But he could make out the crude gate; jagged bars that served as a door.

A prison cell then.

"You are not in any position to question me, boy," the voice was an even baritone, smooth and cultured. And it reminded him somewhat of Arianna's voice when she slipped easily into the role of the Ice Queen. "Never the less, I shall answer. You are my bait; a much greater prize awaits me. One that shall be joining us shortly I believe."

"Who are you?"

"I am Corradyn of the Flame; the greatest sorcerer that Narnia has ever seen," the man laughed and then in a sudden instant the prison cell was illuminated.

A flickering flame shone in the man's open palm, casting light across the face of his captor. A man whose age was undeterminable, for like Jadis he seemed ancient yet looked no older than perhaps thirty. He assessed him with a warriors gaze; a powerful build, but one that was not inclined to combat. For he could see that the sorcerer's hands were lily soft, with not one callous.

There was a bang, echoing down what he assumed to be a corridor.

"Arianna of Charn will come, little human, and you will not have her."

Edmund laughed. He was the bait to lure Arianna? The sorcerer must have been insane to think such a plan would work.

There was another crash, closer that time.

…..

Arianna could feel his presence; it was like a pressure in the back of her mind, growing stronger. She stepped over the body of another crimson-eyed guard. The snow-wolf at her side was growling low in the back of his throat, his white maw dripping with dark blood, his fangs bared.

There was a wild glint in his eyes – one she did not judge him for.

For it was his mate's body which had been skewered by a spear upon their entry to the twisted black castle. One that rose from the ground like a bonfire, twisted and gnarled.

She gripped her knives tighter – plain steel knives, for she did not trust Corradyn. She knew there was a chance of her being captured. She would not risk him claiming her glass daggers.

But without them she was no less deadly – her victims fell about her feet like flies as they descended lower and lower in search of the dungeons.

Torches flickered as she passed, the sound of voices rising to meet her. The stairs were in good repair, the glittering marble perfectly smooth beneath her feet. Brilliant flames in sconces lit their way, the light of the sun far above them – hidden behind thick marble walls and heavy storm clouds – was long forgotten.

She felt a shudder run through her body as the temperature rose; she moved only just in time to evade the blow of a mace. Then her hand shot out, his nose crunching beneath her palm, the splinters pressing into his brain. But it left her tired, her limbs felt heavy. The heat was draining her – sapping her of her strength. There was no moisture in the air, nothing for her to draw on. She felt the wolf's worried gaze.

But she pressed onwards.

She could not fathom how deep they were below the surface, or where they were. Perhaps the dungeons were located under the forest, a vast maze of endless corridors and cells that one could easily get lost in.

She almost missed it when the ground evened out; the air hot and dry. She took a ragged breath; the heavy air filled her lungs, as if it sought to fill her with death and treachery.

And then she knew where to go; he would be in the last cell.

The guard never saw her coming; he fell to the ground with a heavy thud, his face etched with pain forever more.

…..

"Edmund's gone!" Susan was sobbing, almost pitifully. "And it's all my fault."

"My Queen, do not cry," Oreius said in an attempt to console her; but he was as grim-faced as always. "King Edmund is strong; the Ice Queen will not harm him I do not believe."

Lucy paused in her pacing. "I do not think it was Arianna that took him."

The centaur looked across at her sharply. The youngest of the siblings was gnawing on her lip, a pensive expression upon her face, worry in her cornflower blue eyes. Those eyes that seemed to see more than any others. "There is another player in this. Arianna did not have the informant killed either. Ed was sure of it."

"Ed is blinded by love," Susan said as she dabbed at her eyes.

Lucy growled, a sound so much like Edmund that Oreius stared at her. There was fire flashing within her. "Aslan would have intervened if he was so opposed to the match, Susan. You should know this."

"We are on our own, Lu," Susan shook her head sadly. And Oreius felt the breath leave him. For how could she, a Queen of Narnia, lose faith in the one who had granted them rule? In the one who watched over them all? "We have to face the facts."

"Go back to your precious little parties and love affairs." The centaur watched as something within Lucy snapped; childish innocence had no place within her. "You are the one who is blinded Susan. And I hope for all our sakes that you open your eyes."

…..

"My dear, so nice of you to join us," Corradyn could have laughed at the lovely spectacle she made. Her skin was flushed, her chest heaving, her emerald eyes narrowed at him, those beautiful full lips pulled back in a snarl. Oh how he wanted to run his hands over that honey-coloured flesh that was visible above the neckline of her dark leathers. He watched as her brows came down; as she raised her knives once more – threateningly. Or perhaps a challenge. But he could see she was weak. Just as he could not attack her in her domain, she could not attack him in his. "Where is your guide?"

"He lies dead in my dungeons, his blood seeped into the ice," she hissed at him. Gone was the cold exterior she presented to her court. Indeed she was aflame.

The faun's death was an unfortunate loss, but the result was almost the same. He would merely have to replace those she'd killed.

"Ari, what are you doing here?" it was the young king to spoke and Corradyn looked over hi to see an expression of mixed surprise, anger and pleasure.

"I came here to help you," she snarled. But Corradyn could see that the heat was taking its effect. She looked drawn, weary, and there was a slight tremor in her hands. He idly wondered if she'd brought any of her men with her; for there were none flanking her. Perhaps his own soldiers had proven their worth.

"Well I was doing a good job of being helpless without you making it worse," the young king's eyes were unwavering. But he was not defensive, no. For Corradyn could see he cared deeply for the young witch.

Such a shame…

That she was to die…

He could not kill her, not yet. She was not yet weak enough. But he would, he would watch her draw her last breath. And with her the White Witch would die; and there would be none to truly oppose his power. "As charming as this little reunion has been, I am afraid I must cut it short."

…..


	14. Chapter 14

**Here's a fluffy-ish chapter for you all…I'm really not too sure about it so please review : ) **

**A/N: thank you to everyone that has read so far and reviewed…I'm sending you all lots of gratitude and love right now : )**

**Chapter 14**

Jadis could feel the magic swirling around her, housed within the confines of Arianna's mortal flesh. She could feel the body weakening, dying. She felt the strength ebbing from the small body, a weariness that when far beyond physical.

Panic welled within her; it could not end! Not yet, not when she was so close to being able to free herself from the young woman's body. She was trapped; the small girl who had loved her with every fibre of her being had become her prison, her coffin. She felt strange, almost regretful, that things had ended as they did with Arianna – the young woman who she had raised from birth.

In a strange way she had always wanted what was best for the girl…

And Corradyn, her old enemy, the enemy of Narnia, would triumph. And the line of Charn would be lost forever.

…..

He looked at her again for what must have been the tenth time that minute. Since Corradyn had knocked her out she had not awoken. Her skin was pale beneath her tan, her slight body wracked with slight tremors, her eyes darting from beneath her closed lids. She was fading – he could see that. Never before had he seen her so weak, so vulnerable. Her breathing was soft and shallow, her chest not straining against the shirt that was torn and splattered with blood that was not her own.

She had come to rescue him, and she was dying. It was that and nothing else that led him to inch closer to her – far enough that he could take her slender frame in his arms. He hadn't been expecting the soft sigh that escaped her lips as she snuggled closer to him, or the way his stomach twisted at the sound.

Her braid had become unbound, her thick locks of dark chocolate hair falling over her slender shoulders – her leathers had been taken off her sometime in the night when he had slept. The thought of another's hands upon her made his blood boil. His eyes traced the gentle curve of her shoulder, the golden brown skin visible from where her loose cream blouse had fallen open. Heat rose in his face and he glanced away sharply, looking at the dark crevices of the opposite wall.

_You see the one you desire most. _He pushed the thought from his mind. She was the enemy.

_She's not, _the traitorous voice within him said softly, _there is good within her. She came to rescue you._ She did not look like the formidable Ice Queen that Peter so feared and hated; she looked like a simple young woman, lost and alone with none to care for her.

_She can't die…_

…..

"We have to get him back!" Peter's voice was laced with frustration, his normally cheery blue eyes hard. His hands were tight fists as he pressed on his desk.

"And how do you suggest we do that Peter? We don't know who took him, let alone where he might be," Asura snapped back, her patience wearing thin with the young king. "Do you suggest we search the length and breadth of Narnia?" Before he could open his mouth to speak she continued. "Our allies cannot know he is missing; they cannot know that an enemy was within Cair Paravel, that they took Narnia's greatest warrior. _Think, _Peter, damnit."

"Well what do you suggest I do?" Peter growled out, running a hand through his golden locks.

"Talk to the dryad, Myriel," Asura met his eyes, silently begging him to listen to her. "We can't act without knowing the facts first, Pete."

"She can't be trusted."

"What other choice do we have? Raise the banners and march to war?" she scoffed. "We do not even know our adversary, and if it is the sorcerer of time past, then we must plan this very carefully. We need to know what contact she's had with the Ice Queen, we need to know what's happening; she's not made any attacks for weeks. There is something amiss."

She watched as he weighed her words. She did not envy him, as High King the decision would fall to him. He could not shift the responsibility to another, and she prayed to Aslan he would make the right decision. "Bring Myriel to me."

…..

Blinking up at Edmund's face, Ari felt something strange roll through her. His dark eyes were intent on hers and she saw nothing else. Then her eyes fluttered closed once more, a sigh escaping her lips.

Images began to flash through her mind. Getting the dryad to identify the flower she'd taken from the faun – a strange flower which grew only on slopes of the western mountains. Trekking through the forests, the two snow wolves flanking her as they ran. Seeing the great black castle amid the rocky outcrops, feeling the heat closing in on her. Watching as the first spear tore through the body of one of the wolves as they entered the gates. Slicing through Corradyn's men. Descending into the dungeon. The other wolf turning and telling her to go on while he fended off the guards. Finding Edmund in the cell, tied and with company. Corradyn's mocking voice. And then nothing.

His fingers skimmed over her cheek, though strangely they did not feel warm. "Ari?"

She sat up, too fast and her world spun, a strangled groan escaping her lips as she fell back against him. It was too hot, it was draining her. Her breath came in short pants, her eyes squeezed shut. She had failed; both herself and Edmund. She had failed to free him and gotten herself captured as well as her two guards killed. She imagined Jadis would be laughing at her.

She felt Edmund hands on her arms, as if to steady her. Or to hold her together for she no longer could. "Steady," he told her. It was not a whisper, nor a lover's caress, but instantly she felt herself righted. "Don't move, you've been unconscious for almost a day. I think."

She opened her eyes once more. She could not sleep, for fear she would not wake up. The very air was suffocating her; too dry. She needed water. But Corradyn wanted her dead; she would not be given any. And without it she would lose all her strength. "Do not let me sleep," she whispered.

He would not, she knew. For he was the Just King; and the Just King of Narnia would not let a prisoner die. "Just keep talking to me," he said, his hand on her cheek once more. "Tell me something."

"Like what?" She could almost hear him thinking of a question to ask her.

"Like why you are called Arianna of Charn when the White Witch destroyed Charn and everything within?"

She had known the question would arise, though she thought it would have been sooner. She had no strength within her to weave her words like an artist; if she were to die at least someone had to know.

"At the time of the destruction I was but a child in the womb. Jadis bought me into this world with her to live. She used her magic to revive me, though for near eight decades I did not awaken, I had not died fully in Charn for I had not yet been fully alive – I had not yet been born. But my birth was early, tis why I am so short, especially so for one from Charn."

"Who were you?" Edmund asked softly, and she felt her heart tighten with dread. "You must have been the child of someone important for Jadis to care whether you lived or died. The White Witch did nothing that did not benefit her."

…..

Peter looked up at the doors to the meeting chamber were opened, the dryad queen entered with all the grace of an ethereal being, closely followed by his sisters. He blinked.

Lucy's attire was expected of her – breeches and a tunic, with her dagger strapped to her waist. But a sword was also strapped her, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. But it was Susan who caught his attention; for gone were her extravagant gowns and jewels – she wore a simple linen gown with a leather vest on top, leather bracers on her wrists. Once more she wore her quiver of crimson-fletched arrows on her back, her hair tied in a neat braid. Her expression determined.

"Thee doth seek my help-counsel, High King," Myriel was gazing at him in that unnerving way of hers, as if she could read him like an open book.

As the ire rose within him, he felt Asura's hand on his arm; calming him. He watched as Lucy and Susan stood beside Oreius, the austere centaur seemingly pleased at Susan's appearance. "I do. Will you help us?"

"Nothing be given freely, High King, thee doth know this," Myriel said softly. "But I will tell thee this. The one thee doth seek be known as Corradyn of the Flame, a former King of the North. A powerful sorcerer-witch whose greed knows no bounds-limits. Even in his slumber his followers tried to take back the north – many attempts were made on Arianna's life."

Peter frowned. Another sorcerer, was an enchantress not enough? At least they were not working together…for that would have been disastrous for them all. But still…he could not trust those of the north, those who had raided his villages and killed his men.

"We do not wish for the fire-witch-king to rule," she continued softly. "For he would burn-destroy us all. He is no friend to the forest-home, he is no friend to Narnia. Twas the one good thing the white-witch-queen did: rid us of him. "

"Why is he so terrible?" Lucy asked softly.

"There be none others like him left; he is the last," she said. And Peter did not miss the fear that shone in her moss-coloured eyes.

…..

The prison door swung open, a sudden slam that made Arianna stiffen in his arms. She had not answered, but he had seen the panic flash through her emerald eyes and he thought once more of the room in her castle which held nothing but paintings of figures long dead. Paintings which had been burnt and torn – the faces destroyed. But paintings which had been of the best quality. But those images, the one he had made out, could have been an older Arianna, a crown of gold upon the figures head. Dressed in lavish silks and jewels. Clothes befitting an Empress. _It couldn't be…_

"Yer supper, my _king_," the guardsman growled, thrusting forward the plate of bread and a single cup of water. His thoughts must have shown in his eyes for the guardsman growled. "Not of her."

Nodding slowly, he watched as the guard hauled Arianna to the other side of the cell. Her eyes riveted on the goblet of water, her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

Then she tore her eyes from it, her brows down, staring at the wall, her fists clenched. But she did not fight or utter a word of protest.

Pity welled within him. Corradyn understood her weaknesses well.

But he could do nothing. He could not give her the water she needed to stay alive.

The bread was stale, hard to swallow. But he did; for he would need his strength if they were to have any chance of escape.

He left the water til last, emptying the contents of the cup before throwing it on the ground.

…..

Faelar stared at the kings and queens before him, unable to help himself. Despite Arianna's words he had not expected them to be so young. Or so beautiful…

"Who are you?" it was Queen Lucy the Valiant he spoke, and he saw with appreciation that her hand had instinctively flown to the hilt of her short-sword. "What business have you here?"

"My name is Faelar of the North, your Majesties," his eyes met Myriel's for a brief second. But it took only a second for her to understand the worry in his eyes and she let out a strangled cry. All in the room tensed. "And I bring you information as well as an offer."

"What news?" High King Peter remained regal despite the wailing dryad.

"It is my Queen's wish that we ally ourselves, to face Corradyn of the Flame together," Faelar said softly, worry gnawing within him. He could see the distress in Queen Lucy's eyes – she must have been worried for her brother.

"Why does your queen not come herself?" Peter's voice caught slightly on the word queen.

"For she has gone to Corradyn's castle, to free your brother,' he watched as all their eyes widened, Myriel froze at his words. Perhaps she had thought the queen had died. "But she, too has been captured."

"Well, what do you suggest we do?" Faelar wanted nothing more than to cuff the king over the head.

"Join forces; and attack the sorcerer's castle."

…..

She watched as the last drop of precious water seeped into the ground, the heat in the air seemed to close in on her once more. Satisfied, the guard took the empty tray and cup and left, the door closing behind him seemed to seal her fate.

She did not look at Edmund, even as she heard Edmund shift closer to her. The shackles that bound him to the wall rattled, straining.

Then his lips were on hers, soft and warm. A sigh escaped her. It was too good, her mouth opened of its own accord, wanting more.

Shudders ran through her.

And then he tilted her head back and sweet sweet liquid filled her mouth: water. Her eyes opened wide, strength filling her as she accepted it. Cold and fresh it ran down her throat, revitalising. Then her eyes fluttered closed once more, pulling him closer, her small fists clutching the thin fabric of his shirt – as torn and dirty as hers.

Her nerves were humming, her senses alive.

"Ari," his voice had never sounded so sweet. "_Ari_…"

It ran through her body like water, her senses heightened, tingling. She wanted more. She was aware of everywhere their bodies touched, his hands on her, the softness of his skin beneath her fingertips, the silken locks of his dark hair. Honey on cream, her hand slid down his neck, eliciting delicious shudders from him.

Her hands shook as she touched his face, an inaudible sigh leaving her lips as she pulled back.

…..

His eyes opened slightly, sweeping across her face and form like a man who had been starved.

"Ari?" he asked softly. She was afraid. He knew from the way she bit her lip ever so slightly, barely perceptible to anyone else. He knew from the slight crease between her eyebrows.

Emerald eyes, as fierce and wild as an animal of the forests, flashed as they rose to meet his.

Electricity ran through his veins as their lips met, her hand curled around the back of his neck as she pulled him downwards. He smiled into the kiss. She was his. And none would take her from him, not Corradyn or Peter, or even Aslan.

He had meant to be gentle but as her sweet scent washed over him and the heat of her body reached out for his, he lost control. She however, did not pull away, but opened her lips slightly. Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, his tongue had entered her mouth, one of his hands had found its way into her hair and the other pressed her slight body into his. His breath came in small gasps, taking in the smell and taste of her all at once, making his head spin.

A shock of electricity coursed through him, so violently that he almost dropped her. "Edmund," her voice was a contented purr.

They would escape.

Together.

…..

Corradyn raised a brow at the sorcerer who bowed before him, his strange obsidian eyes filled with malicious intent. Though directed at whom he could only guess.

"So, servant of the Ice Queen," Corradyn said softly, watching with amusement as rage flashed through those dark eyes. "Why do you seek me out?"

"I know you hold the false queen prisoner, I wish to pledge my service to you," the sorcerer said, rising from his bow. "I am Tyrian, sorcerer of the Flame. And I know how you can bind her to you, despite the water than runs through her veins."

_Interesting… _


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry, sorry, sorry for the wait : ( things have been a bit crazy with me lately but I shall prevail! Special thanks to kungfupandabear and Allie Danger for sticking with me and the story :D enjoy and thank you for reading : )**

**Chapter 15**

Her head was resting against his chest, his arms encircling her small frame – how she had taken to sleeping for the past week, her body curled up against his as if they were meant to be. It was comfortable; much more so that the stone walls that lined the cells. And it gave the appearance of her exhaustion when the guards came to give Edmund his food and water, water that she was not permitted to have but he gave her unbeknownst to them.

The guard would be coming soon, she surmised, listening to the sound of Edmund's breathing. Even and steady; the calm before the storm. She relished in the gentle caress of his hand on her upper arm, his thumb tracing circles over the skin which was dirtied, more mud-coloured than golden brown, streaked with grime.

They did not need to speak, for they had already decided what they were to do. All they needed to do was wait…

So she waited; content in Edmund's arms for that moment.

…..

Lucy hugged herself tightly as she sat astride her horse, the harsh wind blowing against them, for even in the spring it was cold in the north. The barren peaks offered them no protection from the cold gale, and she was ever grateful for her fur lined cloak and the fact she had chosen to wear breeches, lined with down, rather than a gown. Her horse's movements had become slow, weary from travel. Susan, by her side, had said not a word since leaving the castle. She had been quiet and Lucy could not blame her – for she too worried for Edmund.

She kept her hand tight on the hilt of her sword as they rode in an endless stream towards the north, through the forests. Faelar, the handsome north-man who led them, tried to tell them stories. But they fell on Peter's deaf ears.

The wagons creaked as the days blurred together, the land slowly changing. They all spoke in low voices, as if unwilling to disturb the silent air. And Lucy could not bring herself to laugh at the foolishness of it all.

Why could Peter not see that Arianna would never harm Ed? Did he not understand that perhaps, without the witch's control over her, she may wish for peace and a truce that was more solid?

She shook her head, her eyes drifting to Faelar once more. Cornflower blue met deep sapphire and a blush suffused over her cheeks in spite of the cold.

…..

The guards keys shook in the lock for a moment before he entered, pulling Arianna away like he did every day, leaving her there. She seemed so small, huddled there. The gate rattled shut behind the guard. There was no water today.

Edmund watched her with sharp eyes as he tore a part of the stale bread off. Wondering how she would do it. He watched as she unfurled herself, like a flower blossoming in the spring. He watched as he guards eyes snapped to her and froze – caught like a mouse in the hypnotic gaze of a serpent. He wondered, strangely detatched, if it was what he had looked like when caught in the gaze of the White Witch. But there was something infinitely more dangerous about Arianna's gaze, for it held not only the same charm that Jadis possessed, but her own killer intent.

At another time he would have pitied the guard. But Arianna was raising herself, the trembling of her limbs almost undetectable. "What is it that you most desire?" her soft voice was like a song: a haunting melody, her soft voice like the echo of a dream, speaking words that should not be spoken, words that took root in his very soul.

"Shut it!" the guard snarled, his hand on the sword at his hip, his knuckles white. His pale cheeks were flushed, his lips drawn back in a snarl. But Edmund could see that his irises had dilated, his nostrils flaring.

"I could give you the world," the words pulled at something within him, the tones teasing the edges of his mind, tugging at something intangible beyond his grasp. It was as if he had heard it before; and he could not take his eyes of Arianna. Perhaps it was not so inconceivable that she could be the daughter of the former Empress of Charn – for she could have ruled to world.

He guard blinked. "The world?" A breathy whisper escaped his lips and then he was reaching for the door, his keys in his other hand.

Edmund dared not breathe for fear of breaking the spell Arianna had cast over the guard, whose crimson eyes were vacant, as if he saw nothing but her. But what he saw Edmund could not fathom, for Arianna looked little more than a street urchin. And the way he was staring at her lit a fire in his veins and he wanted nothing more than to throttle the guard.

Her eyes flickered to meet Edmund's the moment the guard entered the cell, raising his hand as if to stroke her cheek.

The guard had surely not expected her hand to capture his, challenge shining in her emerald eyes, a smirk on those cracked lips. He could not see the guards face but he watched as his body stiffen, becoming rigid, a strangled gasp leaving his lips. Throaty and dry.

And then he was falling backwards, making no move to break his fall. He glanced at Arianna; her eyes were glazed, the colour had returned to her face. And then she pounced, taking the keys from the man's belt and unlocking the heavy chains that kept him close to the wall.

"How did you do that?" he asked her, as the cuffs fell from his wrists, the skin red and raw beneath.

Arianna appraised him for a moment, as if deliberating to tell him or not, her face more guarded than it had been in the past week. "Do what? Draw the water from his body or enchant him?"

Edmund looked back at the guard who lay on the dusty floor of the cell, his face drawn and cracked. Like parchment, his paper held no moisture within it. A mere shell. Lifeless crimson eyes staring unseeing at the dry prison roof. For some reason it did not bother him; she had done what she needed to survive, like he had countless times. Even if it was in a somewhat disturbing manner. "Both."

"The gift of my blood," she answered softly, slipping through the door.

He followed Arianna into the corridor. To freedom.

…..

Corradyn snarled as another explosion vibrated through the ground. The fools, he'd ordered them distinctly not to touch the liquid fire.

He looked across at the young woman who'd led his followers in his stead, when he'd been in the deep slumber. She could have, perhaps, been related to Arianna of Charn, for they had the same small heart-shaped faces, delicate and wide eyes. But where Arianna's face was one of calm indifference, but hers was one of wretched displeasure, her blood-red lips curled back in a snarl, her crimson eyes narrowed dangerously.

"My dear, will you not go see what it the matter?"

Medusyll turned her eyes to him, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Of course, my lord."

Her lust for blood was typical of any of her kind.

"The witch has escaped with the human," Lilyn hissed at his side.

He watched as the woman's tail disappeared out the door, crimson scales flickering in the darting candlelight. "I know…I can_ feel_ her."

…..

Arianna landed, rolling into a crouch, her borrowed sword held before her as she ran. She could not pause to catch her breath as another shadow swooped over her, the heat of the fire unbearable as another explosion rocked the castle. They would not see her; the very roof she stood upon was ablaze, the smoke creating a thick black blanket of cover.

But it did not protect her from the thing that stalked her; its fangs dripping with saliva and blood in a face that had once been beautiful. The flames licked at her as she crouched behind the stone which had landed on the roof. From where, Arianna could not guess.

The smoke surrounded her. She felt it creeping into her lungs like a sickness. She had seen those who had been caught in a fire. More often than not it had been the smoke that killed them, not the flames. Her eyes and throat were burning, she did not cough for fear she would give herself away.

But she pressed her back to the chunk of dark marble, ignoring the cuts that covered her body, ignoring the painful sting of the smoke in her eyes. She hoped to any god that listened that the creature could not hear her breathing or the heavy thudding of her heart. She watched as another droplet of thick blood fell from her sword.

A horrible screech filled the air.

Drawing herself upright Arianna ran once more, the smoke that surrounded her stinging her eyes. Another leap, another roll, and she was running again. The muscles in her legs burnt, sweat poured down her face. She tried to block out the screaming from the street below, she could not look down, but she could picture the burning people easily enough, taken by the fire their master so perfectly controlled. She could almost imagine his enraged face when he realised they had escaped.

She hoped fervently that Edmund had made it out of the castle – for they had been separated at the top of the stairs. But the explosions told her he had at least made it to the courtyard, where Corradyn stored the barrels of liquid fire – a substance that exploded upon exposure to naked flame.

A hiss alerted her to its presence and she froze. From the corner of her eye she saw the flicking serpentine tail, like rubies each scale shone. She could almost feel its breath down her neck, where the fine hairs stood on end.

Her eyes darted to the sword she held, splattered with blood, though still shining as brightly as the day it had been forged. Perhaps the woman, the creature, had been beautiful before hate had corrupted it. The blood-red eyes burnt with hatred, her lips pulled back in a snarl to reveal the fangs that Arianna had only glimpsed. She could see the raw power, the killer instinct in her eyes.

"Run as fast as you can, little witch," the creature slithered forward, the sound like water running over stone, a sound that sent shivers along Arianna's spine. In the slight breeze the multitude of dark braids looked alive. _Like serpents_, Arianna thought as she tried to calm her heart. Surely the creature, whatever she was, wound sense her fear as she drew closer. The air was heavy with it. "I always catch my prey."

As she emerged from the smoke, Arianna saw in the reflection on the sword that her lower half was that of a serpent, with only the barest of leather armour covering her shoulders and chest.

She exhaled softly, closing her eyes as she gripped her sword tightly. The metal almost hummed beneath her touch, as if it sensed her intent. Its fingernails were like talons. _Drip. _The soft splashing of the blood off those talons taunted her as it dripped onto the marble.

She thought of Edmund's hands on her waist, guiding her. She moved, swifter than the creature would have thought, her sword swinging.

She felt the sword biting through flesh, sinew and organs. She did not risk opening her eyes, but the creature did not reach out for her. She could feel the heat of the fire on her skin; she could hear the footsteps of another.

With shock Arianna's eyes widened as she spun, only briefly glimpsing the shocked faced of the serpent-bodied woman as her sword slicing through the scales that covered her torso, before crippling pain exploded through her body, her sword clattering to the ground, smeared with bright ruby droplets.

She snarled, grasping the throat of the crimson-eyed dryad who had attacked her. Her fingers on the woman's throat, crushing the life from her, draining the water from her body.

She tossed the body to the side like a ragdoll and stood, her emerald eyes flashing furiously. She would find Edmund and they would leave the godforsaken castle which reeked of death and fire. She took the leather armour of the serpent-woman, who lay on the ground twitching weakly, hiding the blossoming red blood that had seeped through her shirt.

…..

Edmund fell to his knees, a strangled cry escaping his lips. Through the pain he grasped the sword which had plunged through his stomach. He felt the spasm as his body convulsed, his breath left him in a gurgle of blood as he fell backwards. He'd not expected the dryad to turn suddenly, a snarl of her pretty face. Perhaps she was one of the wilder dryads, from the north – but no, her skin was the colour of mocha, sparkling green pigment glowing in the blaze created by the blast. He could do nothing as she raised the sword of her fallen comrade, for_ her_ sword lay buried in his gut. He pulled at it, in an attempt to defend himself. The blood that pooled over his torn linen shirt only meant he would die faster. Without Lucy's cordial he would not survive. The corners of his vision fluttered, the form before him blurring into nothingness. He had dealt enough wounds to know it had been fatal, that he would bleed to death if it was not bound. He would die amid the bodies scorched by the blasts he had created; just another body to add to the piles upon piles of the dead.

_Where was Arianna?_

…..

Peter surveyed the rows upon rows of tents that had been constructed on the edge of the frozen lake, the Ice Queen's castle in the distance. Unease rose within him; something was not right in Narnia. A great shadow had fallen over the land, one that had the dryads and centaurs terrified – the creatures who spoke of Corradyn in the dark of night as a creature whose fury knew no bounds. And they seemed to think that Arianna was the only one who could stop him.

He needed Ed; more than ever.

…..

Arianna knelt on the blood soaked ground, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her once bright eyes turned dull, a pained and disappointed look captured in them. Her whole body was covered with cuts and deep incisions, blood trickled down from her minor injuries, forming small scarlet rivers on her golden-brown skin.

She was aware of another explosion that erupted not far from her; she could feel the earth being shredded and torn. She had to find Edmund. She forced herself to stand and turned her head slowly, to where the smoke was rising in dark, looming tendrils. Her eyes scanned the area, praying that he was safe.

Bodies littered the ground, a mix of races; it seemed strange that just the two of them could wreak such carnage. She stumbled slightly. Then her eyes caught sight of the dryad, trembling, her sword raised. Her breath caught in her throat.

Fear rose to the surface, only dimly of aware of the pain and suffering around her.

Edmund lay there, barely breathing.

Arianna howled, it seemed impossible, even to her, that her form could make such an animalistic sound. All pain forgotten she sprinted to Edmund's motionless body. One quick stroke took the life of the dryad.

"NO! No! _NO_!" She screamed. She desperately felt for a pulse, any sign of life. She breathed a sigh of relief when his eyelids fluttered. But her face turned into a mask of horror when she saw the gaping hole in his chest. "Edmund!" her moan was heart wrenching and she fell to his side, sobbing. "No!"

Edmund coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Arianna desperately hoped that the pool of blood surrounding him was not his. He was meant to be safe. He was meant to be _safe_.

His eyes never left her face as she tried to patch up his wound, to stop the blood. She couldn't move him; the pain for him would be unbearable.

"Stop," his voice was barely above a whisper. "There's nothing you can do."

"I won't let you die!" She stroked his face tenderly, draping herself over his body, seeking to protect him in any way she could. Her eyes were wide, frightened as she lay there with him.

"I won't die Ari," Edmund almost laughed. "Lucy's magic cordial has healed me before."

"We have to leave," her lip quivered as she grasped his hands. She knew there was no way they would reach Cair Paravel in time for Lucy to heal him, her castle was closer, she could try heal him there. "Now."

"Your eyes are leaking," his hand trembled as he stroked her cheek lightly, brushing away the single tear. "Wasting water."

A watery laugh escaped her. The sky burst open with a clap of thunder as the rain poured down around them, washing the blood away.

"Whose doing is this?" Edmund laughed as the rain pelted his skin, before it turned into a fit of coughing, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"It nature's way of cleansing the land," Arianna whispered, clutching his hand and holding it to her chest as his eyes fluttered. She felt the rain filling her with its strength, the drops sinking into her skin. "Don't you dare leave me Edmund!"

A smile tugged at his lips, droplets of water washing away the grime and filth that covered them both. "Talk to me Ari, no more hiding."

She bit her lip and didn't look at him. Lightning flashed. Another explosion rocked the land. "Edmund…I'm scared. I'm…terrified. I need you."

When her palm closed around his and their fingers intertwined, a trace of warmth blossomed through both their bodies despite the chilling rain that soaked them to the bone.

Her lip trembled as she gazed at him. Her eyes, they cut at his heart. They shone with more depth and emotion than he had ever seen. Tears slid down her cheeks as different emotions played through her wide, beautiful eyes, desperation, loss and fear.

He squeezed her hand.

The silence seemed to stretch for eternity as the world disappeared from them. He could see in her eyes that she was panicking, scrambling for safe ground because she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep herself together, her façade crumbling, washing away with the rain. Still her face remained calm, even as everything inside of her was screaming.

She clutched his hand like it was the only thing left in the world. He was the only one who ever saw through her blank looks, the one who kept her from turning into an apathetic monster. He was the one who help her fight off the darkness.

She squeezed his hand gently, her smile shaky.

He did not squeeze it back.

He did not move.

She knelt there, frozen_. No_, was her only thought. She wanted to throw herself against the ground, wanted to scream. She wanted the rain to wash away the pain. A torch was lit atop the castle, flickering in the rain. But no light in the world could keep the coming darkness at bay.

She stared up at the moon, hanging beautifully in the sky, obscured by the heavy rain clouds. It made the battlefield disproportionally large, and she felt infinitesimally small.

She steeled herself. Her eyes hardened, even as tears slid down her cheeks, mixing with the rain that soaked her.

Looping an arm under Edmund's shoulders and another under his legs, she picked him up.

The rain continued.


	16. Chapter 16

**This one is pretty much just a filler…with a bit of fluffiness : ) sorry for the delay…tell me what you think my gorgeous readers : ) **

**Chapter 16**

It was still more than a league to her castle; the distance seemed to have doubled than when she had gone to Corradyn's castle. She knew she would make it no further once the sun had set, already it dipped low on the horizon, disappearing beyond the mountains. And she knew better than to push Edmund onwards in his weakened state; she was not doing much better herself, her limbs grew heavier with each step, carrying both her weight and Edmunds. If she'd not found the trickling stream that morning she would have collapsed long ago. But the strength the water gave her and the determination to get Edmund to safety pushed her onward.

She could feel the eyes of the animals on her as she propped Edmund against a tree, his dark eyes never leaving hers.

She saw the concealed wince, the sharp intake of breath between clenched teeth, though he said nothing. As she coaxed the fire to life she watched the young king sidelong through her lashes. He had closed his eyes, but his lips were turned down in a frown as he tried to get comfortable.

"Lift your shirt, Ed," she said sharply as she stood, the flames crackling behind her as she advanced on him. Seeing the determination spark in her eyes he did not object, merely folding up his shirt for her to inspect. He did not look down to see the cause of the crease between her perfect brows. Her cat-like eyes glanced up for a moment, and widened, surprised to see his chocolate orbs studying her face. They flashed for the barest moment before he winced in pain as her slender fingers brushed the bandage that was now seeped with blood. Like a crimson flower it spread out from his wound, staining the linen which she had so laboriously wrapped around him. Like blood splattered on fresh snow – and it tugged at something deep within her knowing he was in such pain.

She idly wondered if Jadis was watching, if she was revelling in Edmund's pain and Arianna's helplessness.

"You could have left me behind long ago," his voice was broken, too soft. Too unlike the Edmund she knew. There was a strange vulnerability in his eyes; she turned her face from him, opting instead to look into the dancing flames. "You would be safe by now."

"You did not give up on me when I lay at death's door," she said simply, feeling his eyes on her. She could only imagine how she looked, covered in blood and grime, her hair as wild as a birds nest, her shirt clinging to her sweaty body. But she could not find it within herself to care; not when he looked just as bad.

…..

"Is there any word of Ed yet?" Peter's voice was riddled with worry, his eyes resting on her face – the normally sunny blue irises like storm clouds, bleak and foreboding. In the flickering light of the torches, sitting on a chair beneath the crimson canopy of his tent he looked more like a lost child than High King Peter the Magnificent.

"Not yet, Pete," Asura said softly, shaking her head at his blatant dislike of the Ice Queen. She was somewhat glad that the Ice Queen had not shared the location of Corradyn's castle with any others, for there was no doubt in her mind that Peter would have staged a rescue.

And she was not foolish enough to think they would succeed.

She pulled her fur cloak closer to her body, trying to keep the warmth in. Though it was the land of her birth, she had long grown used to the summer of the south, with the sunny blue skies and still-warm winters. It was as if the winter never left the north – just like the winter had never left Narnia whilst the White Witch ruled.

"I know what you're thinking," Peter said suddenly, and she looked up at him to see his gaze boring into her own. "I don't believe the Ice Queen is the White Witch – she is so much worse."

She watched him carefully as he rested his forearms on his knees, the pendant that dangled around his neck winking in the soft golden light. Aslan's face was looking at her from within the golden disc, carved in perfect detail. Long ago crafted by the dwarves. She let her eyes trace his face, wishing not for the first time to be able to touch those golden locks.

So different to Edmund, though it was not hard to see why the ladies of the court flocked to the two brothers.

She shook her head to clear her mind, focusing on his words instead. "How is she worse? Her people no longer raid the villages…"

"But for how long? How long until she wants it again?"

She was on her feet in an instant when the tent flap opened, by Peter's side, both their swords ready, all thoughts from before gone.

Faelar, the northman grinned, his sapphire eyes dancing with merriment.

"Put those away, you'll poke someone's eye out," Lucy snapped, her hands on her hips, a few auburn curls had come free of her bun and tumbled about her small face artfully. Her cornflower blue eyes, so similar to Peter's in colour, were alight, her cheeks flushed. Her own sword was strapped to her belt.

Asura grinned and lowered the blade, but did not release her grip on the hilt, watching Faelar warily – though he too had flushed cheeks.

And she hoped fervently that Peter did not notice.

…..

Edmund watched as her body tensed. Then she stood, pushing her body into a hand-stand. Keeping her body pin-straight she pushed up and down, and up, and down. The soft curve of her mouth was turned down, her eyes distant. He knew that she was strong, even with her comrades lying dead and dying around her, she would continue. She had continued. She had not let him die.

He marvelled at her flexibility and strength, which was unrivalled. Was it because she was not of Narnia? He wasn't inclined to believe so. It was her inner-strength which drove her. It gave her the strength to fight Jadis within her mind, to hang onto life even when the strength left her body. But her thoughts remained hidden from him, guarded from all behind her hauntingly dark emerald eyes.

When the fire was waning and dull Arianna dropped back to her feet, feeding it more wood, though he knew she could not stand the heat. When she sat beside him, it seemed like there was far more than a few feet between them.

He took her hand gingerly, noting her slight flinch and the way her eyes widened ever so slightly. He stared down at the hands which had wrought so much death, but had also kept him alive. "Tell me Ari, why did you serve the White Witch? Why did you let her into your mind?"

If his theory was true and she was the daughter of the Empress of Charn, then Jadis had every reason to keep her alive – for they had the same ice magic running in their veins. But it made no sense that Arianna would willingly serve the woman who had killed her mother. Did she truly believe she was indebted to the witch?

"She made me what I am Edmund," Arianna said softly, still not looking at him. "I've never lied to you Edmund, I owe her my life. I served her with everything I had; serving her was my life. I knew no different."

The silence of the forest engulfed them. He watched as her lips tightened. He frowned slightly at that, but he knew not to press her. If he did she would clam up like a shell and nothing could coax her back out. He was content to merely watch her in the firelight, her eyes aglow as she stared into the flames.

"I know you Arianna, this is not you. You present a face to all, hard and uncaring, like Jadis was. But deep down, where nobody else sees, I know who you are."

"This is me, Ed," Arianna's voice was as cold and bleak as the snow storms of the winter-land she ruled over. But he couldn't tell if she was trying to convince him or herself.

…..

Arianna awoke when it was still dark; no light from above the canopy reached the ground. There were no birds calling overhead, only the droplets of dew that rolled off the deep green leaves and hit the ground. The soft splatter sounded like a thunderclap to Arianna and she let her eyes flutter close.

Edmund's body was warm against her back, his arm draped across her body as if he never wanted to let her go. She could easily imagine his face, the slight frown that pulled at his lips, ready to turn into a smirk in a split second. For she knew his face as well as she knew her own, as well as she knew Jadis's – perhaps even better.

She moved closer to him, savouring the warmth before they had to move onwards.

_Just a few more moments… _

…..

"Allow me to go after them, my king," her voice was a sultry whisper, a voice that could bring any man to their knees. "I will get him off the witch."

Any man except he; for it was his blood that enhanced her beauty. "No," Corradyn did not turn to look at her as most men within the hall were. Indeed she did look resplendent in her gossamer gown of black, an onyx winking between her pale breasts – her dark locks spilling over her bare slender shoulders. But in his eyes her beauty was paled by Arianna's – who would be his one way or another. She had to have known he was not going to kill her, by depriving her of water it would have given her no choice but to drink what he offered her: his blood. He would make her his and they would be invincible. "The dark king will not be swayed by your beauty, dear. He is enraptured by Arianna of Charn," he said, speaking as if to a child. And he did not miss the pout upon her blood-red lips. A plan formed within his mind, blossoming forth from a seed. "But I do have something you can do."

He did not blame her for tiring of being a mere ornament. But the plan…suited her quite nicely.

…..

"Come on Ed," her voice was weary, and he could not blame her.

Through sleep-blurred eyes he looked up at her; surrounded by the streaming sunlight she looked like an angel.

"We push on to the castle tonight," she said, offering her hand to him, as she had since their escape. He took it, marvelling at the soft texture that was at odds with her warrior nature.

Her small body fit against his perfectly, her arm around his waist, offering more than just support. Then she smirked up at him, his stomach unsettled, fluttering softly at the expression. "Come on, Just King. Time to go."

And he kissed her; there was nothing else to do.

There was no desperation, no flash of lightning through his veins. But a pleasant hum, a warmth that blossomed through him when he felt her soft smile against his lips, when he felt her small hand tighten on his waist.

"Then let's go Ice Queen," he gave her a smirk of his own when he pulled back, almost laughing at the dazed expression in her emerald eyes. Dear Aslan he didn't know what he'd do without her.


	17. Chapter 17

**I'm sooooooooooooooooooooo sorry guys…it wasn't meant to take this long, but things are pretty crazy with UNI right now…I probably should be doing some assignment or another right now o.O but here you go : ) I hope there's still people out there wanting to read this : )**

**Chapter 17: **

At another time she would have scoffed at their startled expressions when she stumbled through the flap that served as the tents door. But Edmund's weight grew heavy across her shoulders as she stumbled across the threshold, blood covering her body, tear-tracks streaked through the dirt and ash on her cheeks.

"Help him," escaped her lips before her knees gave way.

…..

The snow fae queen, Elyon, was the first to reach the Ice Queen, who was bloodied and dirtied – her clothes torn to mere shreds. He was shocked by the worry that marred the fae's delicate features, for they were known to be cold and uncaring. But the queen lifted the young woman in her arms as if she weighed little more than a child, while Lucy ran to Edmund's side, her cordial to his lips in seconds.

Susan recovered next. "ED!" she rushed to his side, her crimson gown pooling about her as she sunk to her knees, stroking his dark hair tenderly.

"Your Majesties, I must take my leave, my queen needs tending," Elyon said tersely, her face unmarked by expression once more. Her gossamer wings were fluttering like a hummingbird's wings, her hands curled protectively around the young woman's body, the very air around her seemed to shimmer.

"I could heal her," Lucy said softly, looking up from Edmund's sleeping form.

"We have our own methods, Majesty," Elyon offered a stilted smile, as if the expression were foreign to her. "But I thank you." Then she swept out of the tent, her feet a foot from the ground.

Peter stared at the spot she had vacated before going to kneel by their brother. "How is he?"

Covered in blood and dirt, Peter could not see the wounds, though his shirt was shredded beyond repair, all his weapons missing.

"He's barely holding on," Lucy said softly as she dabbed a wet cloth to their brother's forehead. His face had taken on a pale sheen, sweat rolling off his forehead. Lucy's eyes were anxious and pained; her lips trembling. His face was a patchwork of cuts and bruises, as was the rest of his body. He was bleeding from thousands of cuts, but they were superficial. "There is little more that I can do, he needs rest. He is in Aslan's paws." Blood-stained clothes barely covered his body; it was indiscernible what colour they had been before being coated in filth and dirt. His hair was a matted mess of chocolate locks.

"Do you think she did this to him?"

"She was exhausted Pete," Susan said softly, meeting his eyes over Edmund's still body. "Edmund is in no state to move; she must have carried him from wherever Corradyn's castle lies."

Peter frowned. Why would she have done that? And why had she gone to rescue Edmund in the first place? The thoughts gnawed at his mind, unable to do anything but watch as Ed was lifted onto a stretcher and taken from the tent.

But he did not miss the soft whisper that passed through his brother's lips.

"Ari…"

And it was that, more than anything, that made dread steal through his body. For he'd hoped infatuation had passed.

…..

Corradyn snarled as he surveyed the damage the two had wrought. Fire blazed in his hands as he kicked one of the lifeless bodies that littered the courtyard, he spared barely a glance at the body of the serpent-woman who had toppled from the roof, her crimson scales blackened by fire. She had been so easily defeated by the Ice Queen, even in her weakened state.

He turned his gaze to Tyrian, the black sorcerer who had once been Jadis's lover – scorned by Arianna. A man with a wounded ego, the easiest kind of man to manipulate. And it was pure disdain that burned in those obsidian eyes, disdain and hatred, and a desire for revenge.

"You let her get away," it was a simple fact that Tyrian stated, for even he was not foolish enough to accuse the Sorcerer of the Flame.

"There will be another chance," Corradyn said, turning from the carnage. "High King Peter will not let this attack on his brother go without challenge. He will be furious when the Ice Queen returns King Edmund to them; he will want to avenge the boy. And when the Narnians attack in full force we will have them. For they will not take our castle and we will burn them all."

"What of Arianna? What if they stand together?" he could almost detect the scoff in the traitor sorcerer's voice.

"The dear High King of Narnia would never stand beside the one who is responsible for the death of hundreds of his men." Corradyn could have laughed, it was so perfect. While he may not have succeeded in taking Arianna as his own, the circumstances had given rise to an even greater opportunity.

He would burn them all.

…..

The first thing she became aware of was the water that ran over her skin, so calm and soothing. The water held her buoyant, her thin gown pooled around her body – clinging to slender legs, her hair floating in tendrils around her face. She remembered stumbling through the forests, the dark branches cutting at her skin as she struggled with Edmund's weight after glimpsing one of Corradyn's scouts. She recalled seeing the gold and crimson tents at the edge of the frozen lake, something akin to relief washing through her when she saw the crest of Narnia. She had staggered through the door of the largest tent, never before so glad to see the Pevensie siblings.

Her eyes shot open.

"Edmund?"

"He is with his family, my Queen," it was Faelar's voice that met her in the vast silence, his dulcet tones cast back at them, echoing in the cavern. "You are within your chambers."

She pressed a hand to her forehead, sitting up slowly. She felt as if her limbs were weighed down with stones, her head pounding. Water rushed off her limbs as she steadied herself, the metal of the bath cool beneath her fingertips. Her skin did not register the icy temperature of the room, though she looked across to see Faelar dressed in his finest blue tunic, hemmed with white fur, a thick cloak thrown over his shoulders.

"How do you feel?" His voice was soft, almost caring.

But it was a strange question, she did not answer straight away.

He must have known what she was thinking for he rephrased the question. "Are you injured still, my lady?"

"I am well," she cast her gaze to him one more, aware that there was not a mark on her golden brown skin. For like the naiad's, she was healed by the water. It was a part of her, and she a part of it. She could feel the drops that hung, suspended in the air, around her. "Tell me, what has happened."

His sapphire eyes traced her body, reassuring himself of her condition, before they rested upon her shining orbs. So brilliant, so bright. She knew they had never shone with so much life before, even though she had been teetering on the brink of death. "High King Peter had come with the intent of rescuing his brother from Corradyn."

"And what now? Edmund has been returned to him. Will he go back to Cair Paravel and let us face Corradyn alone?" She pressed a hand to her head, loathe to leave the sanctuary of her chambers and become the Ice Queen once more. She had enjoyed being with Edmund, free of the responsibilities. But she knew she was needed, she would not let her people, or the north, perish beneath the rage of Corradyn's fire.

"I do not know, my Queen."

She glanced at hi sharply. "Enough with the formality business, Faelar. Tell me true. Tell me what you have learnt of the Pevensie siblings and where they would stand."

She saw something flicker across his eyes, something strange that she could not place. But she knew it was not negative, nor was it directed _at_ her. "King Peter is true and noble, he will do anything to protect his family and his subjects – but he is not as wise as King Edmund, given the chance he would have stormed Corradyn's castle unprepared. He would have thought he was doing the right thing in rescuing his brother had I not intervened on your orders."

She nodded slowly, her thoughts turning over and over in her mind.

"High Queen Susan is difficult to understand, for she seemed to care only for the parties and frivolities of monarchy, leaving everything else to her siblings, save for being the perfect hostess. She is known as the Gentle Queen for no reason. Whilst in her younger years she may have gone into war fearlessly she is the diplomat now, and she could be persuaded to see reason."

Arianna was only mildly surprised he did not mention her beauty, for Arianna had seen the beautiful queen herself – perhaps the most beautiful woman in all of Narnia. But Faelar was not like most other men, he valued many things above beauty. Then she watched that foreign emotion flicker through his eyes once more.

"Queen Lucy will be either to easiest or the most difficult to persuade to your side, Ari. She is courageous and strong and fiercely protective of her friends and siblings, especially Edmund. She is a warrior at heart, Ari, just like you. And you will need her on your side if the Narnians are to stand with us; for she is held dear by all."

Arianna regarded him for a few moments at length, a smirk tugging on the corner of her lips. But she suppressed the urge to tease him, there were more pressing matters at hand. "I must rise, Faelar. There is much to be done."

…..

The sound of the jingling bells were like an echo from a long forgotten dream, or perhaps a nightmare. They rang throughout the campsite, cutting through the laughter and merriment of the Narnians, echoing throughout his own grand tent strewn with crimson and gold cushions, upon which Susan and Lucy sat, who turned as one.

It was as if a sudden hush had fallen over them, and Edmund was half out of his chair, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Peter's fists clenched and Asura had drawn her own sword, all staring intently as the tent flap rippled open and a faun was standing there, panting heavily, his eyes wide with something akin to fear.

"My King and Queens, the White Witch approaches."

**Sorry about the shortness , but the next chapter will be very long and hopefully I'll get it up faster…Don't forget to tell me what you think : )**


	18. Chapter 18

**Oh dear lords I'm so sorry, I've turned into one of those people who only update once every month or two o. O…I'm SO SO SO SO SORRY! So I've attempted a long chapter for you all : ) Also a huge thank to all who favourited and followed this : ) It kept me going through all my crazy exams : /**

**Chapter 18: **

His eyes swept over the form sitting in the sleigh, swathed in volumous folds of ice-coloured silk, with a crown atop her head that twinkled with the light of a thousand stars. But it was not platinum hair that fell around her body in a cascade of gentle waves; it was dark mahogany locks and skin golden brown where Jadis's had been parchment white. She looked far different from the last time he had seen her, when he had thought her a simple assassin. She looked every inch the cold and untouchable Ice Queen of the north. And he could easily see what had Edmund so enraptured. But those emerald eyes, so beautiful and lined with dark gold, glittering with a cold intelligence as they looked down upon him. One that he knew to be wary of – it was the woman who was responsible for the raids on their villages, the attacks on their farms. It was because of her that they were open to attack from Corradyn.

The northerner, Faelar, sat by her side in pale blue silks, his clothes lined with snowy fur, his eyes cautious.

They were not fools.

But neither was Arianna, Peter knew, for the camp was silent, awaiting her every move.

"I am Arianna of Charn, Queen of the North," her voice was true and clear, commanding in a different way than Jadis's. For every one hung onto her words, and like cold water they sent shivers down his back. Yes, she was truly a queen. In a way that perhaps even Susan and Lucy were not. He could see it in the eyes of those who surrounded her, the snow fae Elyon, the two minotaurs, the dryads, the snow wolf and the single centaur. They would die for her. "And I bid you welcome to my lands, Kings and Queens of Narnia."

She swept her skirts to the side, Faelar holding her slender hand as she stepped down from the sleigh.

From the corner of his eye he could see Oreius resting his hand on the pommel of his sword, eyeing the female centaur that accompanied Arianna with an expression akin to bewilderment.

Her steps were slow as she approached, the minotaurs flanking her every step, the white wolf's muzzle drawn back in a slight growl. And Peter watched as his army fell under her spell – eyes widened slightly, jaws slackened.

But it was Edmund's reaction that stunned him – for his younger brother did not rush to his lover, instead he stood by his eyes, his face a severe as ever. His dark eyes unreadable. But Arianna's emerald orbs flickered to the Just King's for the briefest moment, and something that was almost relief rippled through them.

The image of her stumbling through the tent flashed through his mind once more – the queen looking nothing more than a street urchin, getting Edmund to them with the last of her strength. She had been broken and bruised only the day before – and like Edmund she bore not a mark of their trials. But she had none of Lucy's magic cordial to heal her.

And then she was before him, in all her beauty and glimmering white.

"I believe we have things to speak of, High King Peter," her voice was not mocking, not condescending. And he remembered Edmund's words of wisdom from only moments before.

_Listen…_

"I believe so."

…..

Edmund watched as they disappeared within the tent, unease gnawing deep within him. Though with it was a deep relief that Arianna was unhurt; but he knew he could not talk to her yet, let alone embrace her. He could see the mistrust in the eyes of the Narnians, who were eyeing the northerners warily as if expecting an attack.

"Do not worry so, Ed," Lucy said softly at his side, her smile cheerful despite the heavy atmosphere that hung over them like a storm cloud.

"What if Pete does not listen to her? You know as well as I that we cannot defeat the Flame Sorcerer by ourselves and neither can she," he was pacing now. He could only imagine the harsh words that Peter would be firing at her. And it was all too easy to image her small face, the perfect image of a queen, taking it all in and preparing a counter attack without betraying a single thought.

"Faelar says that she could convince a man to do anything," Lucy said, not in the least bit worried as she spread her skirts around her on the soft snow, watching as the water seeped into the hem. "He says that none have more right to rule than her." She turned her too-intelligent gaze to his. "What did he mean, Ed?"

Edmund paused, if only for the briefest of moments. "Do you remember the ancient scrolls, Lu? _The magic of water and ice runs deep in the veins of those in the royal house of Charn_. I think…I think she is the daughter of the last Empress."

He waiting for the laughter to come, for her to tell him to stop being ridiculous. But instead she looked at him with thoughtful eyes, those bright cornflower blue eyes that saw more than anyone thought.

"That actually makes a lot of sense Ed," she said softly, turning her gaze to the tent. "And it explains so much."

…..

Arianna felt as if her patience was hanging by a single thread, though she kept her face void of emotion.

"You think you can just announce yourself a queen?" Peter demanded. "You think that and a pretty castle make you royalty?"

"Those that follow me make me a queen, Peter Pevensie. You should know that better than any." She did not pause to let him speak. "You were nothing but a boy when Aslan made you king; I was born to it."

She watched as every muscle in his body tensed and she knew that he would gladly run her through with his blade – to taste her blood on the shining silver. But he also knew of her skill, perhaps he would not be so hasty to draw the famed sword that his hand rested so precariously on.

"Do not be foolish; to defeat Corradyn we must work together, no matter how much either of us loathe it," she said, calmly and slowly keeping her gaze on him as if she were the predator and he the prey. She watched him process the words, stepping closer in perhaps an attempt to regain his power, to intimidate her. "He is far more powerful than even Jadis was; it was only through deception that she defeated him – but only temporarily. And it was I who unknowingly awoke him – for it was my magic, my blood, which she used to bind him. It was my blood which bound him and my blood that freed him. So I must rid Narnia of him."

Peter scoffed. "A witch with honour. There is no such thing. You want something in return."

Arianna glared at him, her eyes like the daggers she so perfectly wielded. Sharp, cutting and freezing. "Do not be foolish, High King Peter. You know what I am capable of."

"Are you threatening me?"

Arianna laughed. She couldn't help it.

She'd be starved and dehydrated, she'd almost been killed, and she'd seen Edmund almost die.

It was as it everything bottled up inside her was released. "When I threaten you, Your Majesty. You will know it."

…..

The woman stumbled through the forest, her limbs shaking with cold and exhaustion. Her lids grew heavy over squinting violet eyes, her hair streaming around her like a curtain of tumbling caramel curls. The gnarled branches caught at her thin cloak, as if it sought to tear through to her perfect porcelain skin.

Had it not been for what lay behind her she would have turned back, or lay down in the snow never to rise again.

She had to find the Kings and Queens of Narnia, she had to tell them… her foot caught in a tree root covered by snow, sending her sprawling, a soft cry escaping her lips.

And it was through those last trees that she glimpsed the crimson tents in the distant, like flecks of blood across the snow-covered landscape. Relief flooded through her feet when, through cracked lids, she glimpsed the cloven-hoofed legs of an armour-clad faun.

…..

Edmund watched with trepidation as Arianna stepped through the tent, Peter close behind her. There was a look upon his brother's face that he couldn't quite identify. Maybe something akin to a grudging respect.

And then he saw it, the hairline cut above his brother's brow, a razor thin line. But he zeroed in on it; Arianna hadn't struck his brother…had she?

Those who had accompanied her looked unworried, their stances casual despite the unease of the Narnians at their presence. The hulking black minotaur was watching his queen with scrutiny, his hand never straying far from his battle axe.

The snow-white wolf at his side kept his golden eyes flickering from place to place.

Edmund did not question that they would willingly give their lives to protect Arianna.

"It would please me greatly if you joined me tonight," Ari's voice was calm, but when her eyes met his something akin to lightning jolted through him at the sparkling in her emerald eyes. "A feast is to be held, in honour of my safe return and of course to celebrate our new alliance."

"You think us fools?" Peter scoffed. "All know of the enchantment that lies upon your castle. Once inside we could not leave."

Arianna laughed; a clear sound like tinkling bells that filled the air drawing all eyes to her. "High King Peter, the enchantments have removed for over a moon cycle. Have you not notice that my men move freely as they please? Perhaps your brother would join me for a walk and test it for himself?" She was making Pete uncomfortable and was doing it deliberately; he could see the smirk that threatened to appear at the corner of her mouth, her eyes mocking. Peter would not allow them to be seen together, truly together, by his people – but he himself would never walk willingly with Arianna of Charn. Did he imagine the wink she sent his way? He quelled the blush that threatened to rise, turning his gaze to stony faced Oreius. The general's gaze was riveted to the pale skinned centaur who had accompanied Arianna.

It was Lucy who saved the situation, stepping forward with a charming little smile and a sweeping curtsy. "I would accompany you, Your Majesty." She held out her arm, which Arianna took with her own smile – picture perfect.

…..

Asura turned away from the queens who had walked a little way off, movement in the corner of her eye drawing her attention. The naiad's hand flew to the hilt of her sword on instinct until she recognised one of the guards under her command – a faun. But it was not he that caught her attention, it was the limp figure he held in his arms. Obviously a woman, clad in clothes that had once been a lovely crimson but had been torn and coated with dirt and grime, with a tumble of beautiful chestnut locks that caught the light as the faun approached.

…..

Lucy did not hesitate as they stepped onto the frozen lake – she did not doubt Arianna's word that she had removed the enchantment. "How did you convince Peter to ally himself with you?"

She glanced sidelong at the queen who was but a year older than herself.

"I knocked some sense into him."

Lucy's eyes narrowed. She did not think that Queen Arianna was one to make jokes lightly. Then she remembered the small droplet of blood that had run down Peter's temple, a small crimson drop. "You…fought Peter?"

"He challenged me." She said it simply, as if she were merely commenting on the weather.

Lucy shook her head, her auburn hair catching the light. Arianna walked a dangerous path.

"Why does that Fire Sorcerer want you? You cannot betray us."

She watched as Arianna turned to her; eyes glittering like ice and it was almost as if the White Witch had manifested within her once more. But it was a reaction; honest and true and it told Lucy everything she needed to know before Arianna opened her mouth. "Corradyn will die by my hand, Valiant Queen, I promise you this. He will feel the icy kiss of winter as his last breath leaves his lips."

Lucy could see the glint of the ice-like daggers strapped to her belt. Dwarven created, she'd heard Edmund tell Peter. A wound created by those blades could not be healed by magical means.

"Don't break his heart."

Arianna blinked, taken aback.

Lucy could have laughed; for the woman, in that moment, looked every bit the young woman she truly was despite her power and prowess. Despite her reputation – both deserved and not.

"I can promise nothing."

…..

"Pete, you should trust her," Lucy said softly as they stared into the flames that crackled heartily as the sky bled into night, the first of the stars appearing as the high King fastened his cloak to his back with the golden brooch. "She means us no harm, not any more. Whatever it is she feels for Edmund is true."

"I will try," Peter said at length, looking at himself in the reflection. "For you and for Edmund I will try, but I cannot promise anything. I cannot simply forget the lives she has taken."

"You have taken just as many Pete."

"It's not the same." She watched as he shook his head, gnawing on her lip. He needed to see that she was no longer a threat. Perhaps he would see at the feast. "I can't forget Lu, not when she looks so much like _her_."

…..

Violet eyes fluttered open. Full lips opened in a gasp, a pink tongue darting out to moisten them. She pressed a hand to her forehead, which burned unnaturally high.

"So you're finally awake," it was the _other_ king's voice that drifted to her from the shadows. The dark king.

Cool water flowed down her throat.

She saw his eyes, dark and mysterious and could easily tell why the Ice Queen was so enamoured with him. Why she had chosen to stop her conquering of Narnia. Even if he was not as pure and _noble_ as his brother. He was fair, he was _just_.

He was not easily fooled.

"Who are you?" His dark gaze was piercing, as if he could tear through her body and soul.

"Your Majesty," he did not react to her beautiful, melodious voice, instead his lips curled upwards.

"Who are you and why do you wear the leathers of those who follow the Sorcerer of the Flame?"

She could not swallow for the blade pressed to her throat.

*****I'm so sorry guys : ( I hope you're still all happy with the way the story is going, please tell me if you think otherwise or if you're confused or anything…Don't forget to review :D **


	19. Chapter 19

**This is dedicated to kungfupandabear : ) I'm sorry for leaving you in suspense for so long o.O **

**Chapter 19: **

Faelar awoke to a harsh light stinging his eyes and a pounding in the back of his mind – insistent and heavy. He groaned when a familiar shadow fell over him, pulling his furs up over his head. "Let me sleep."

_If only Aslan would be so kind. _

The covers were ripped from his body, leaving his pale skin bared to the chilly air and instinctively he drew his knees towards his chest in an effort to retain the warmth that was quickly fading.

"As amusing as this is, we soon must meet with the kings and queens of Narnia," Ari's voice was aloof, detatched; yet he knew there would be mirth shimmering in her emerald orbs. "A war council has been called."

"And High King Peter lets you sit in upon it?" Faelar sat up and stared at her; regretting it a moment later when the blood pounded through his head and the contents of his stomach threatened to rise and spill over the icy floor of his chambers.

"High King Peter had no choice," her voice was as cold and ice and Faelar

…..

Corradyn watched the re-building of his castle with calculating eyes. Perhaps Arianna and Edmund had done him a favour – for the walls were built higher, thicker. Impenetrable. When the Narnians attacked they would gain no entry to the Castle of Fire; he knew that Arianna would seek him out eventually. She would be his; the Pevensies would be dead. And Narnia would be free to do with what he willed.

Not even Aslan could stop him; for he was as old as the Great Lion himself. The pieces were falling together perfectly.

With a smirk Corradyn turned to the over-confidant sorcerer by his side. "You will not fail me again."

Tyrian shook his head vigorously; for he knew another failure would mean his life.

Perhaps he would have been safer had he never betrayed the young Ice Queen who had spurned him. But it was in far too deep now.

…..

Edmund glared at the woman with unconcealed mistrust from where he stood in the shadows of the tent. He'd been scolded by Peter, Susan, and even Lucy. He'd treated the woman too roughly, they said, when it was obvious she'd been through much.

There was no mistaking the pleased look in her violet eyes as Peter spoke to her in soft tones. And he could not just believe that it was feminine pleasure – it was something more (though they called him paranoid). She had obviously wanted all of the High King's attention, for she had seemed uneasy at Asura's presence. And that was why the Captain of the High King's guard, third in command, was standing guard to the tent's door like a common soldier.

The woman, Lily she'd said her name was, was smiling very prettily up at Pete, and he could not help the scowl on his face as his brother grinned in return, offering her more grapes.

"She's very pretty," Lucy commented absent-mindedly at his side.

"You trust her?" Ed's scowl deepened.

"I said she was pretty, nothing more.

Those pretty violet orbs rested on Arianna the moment she entered – Edmund knew it was her by the goosebumps that rippled over his skin; he did not need to turn towards the tent flap. Through his mind played images of the night before, her small upturned face with the hint of a smile as they twisted around each other – dancing to the crass northern music that set a fire in his blood.

Then the woman's – Lily's – perfect mouth fell open and a blood curdling scream pierced the air as she scurried backwards into Peter's arms, eyes wide and terrified.

"Get her out of here Ed," Pete's voice was sharp and cutting as he attempted to sooth the quivering woman in his arms.

…..

Arianna did not snarl or protest as they left the tent, but her eyes were blazing. She didn't spare Faelar's startled face a glance as she strode through the Narnians who scrambled to get out of her way, Edmund trailing her. She could feel his sombre expression – his mistrust that boiled just below the surface.

"My King," Asura began, jogging to catch up with them, her pale blue locks catching the sunlight like glass or the surface of a lake. Arianna held no dislike for the pretty naiad who had once been a northerner but no longer was. But at that moment she did not want to see those pretty sparkling blue orbs shining with mistrust.

"It's ok, we're just going for a ride," Ed's voice was heavy and she could feel his eyes on him. But she did not pause in her stride, the snow soft beneath her feet. She felt, more than heard the silent exchange between Edmund and Asura. But she heard as the naiad left them as they wove through the tents, fury like ice in her veins. She knew…she had known the moment she saw the woman who she was. And she had Peter wrapped around her little fingers.

She did not miss the startled expression of the faun that crossed her path as she bared her teeth.

…..

Asura felt unease and something akin to jealously prickle through her as she heard Pete's laughter through the tent. She did not blame the woman for wanting the High King – or blame her for her reaction to the Ice Queen.

She watched with mild interest as the dryad queen, Myriel, and the snow fae queen, Elyon, approached. With light steps they were before her in moments, Elyon hovering mere inches above the snow-littered ground, her wings beating faster than a humming-birds. A strange interest shone in the icy eyes of the fae, whose glittering crown cast a myriad of light across her small face. Not for the first time Asura wondered if there was fae blood within Arianna. But then she remembered the blush that had arisen on Edmund's pale cheeks the last time someone had mentioned Arianna and cold blood in the same breath.

"Their Majesties are otherwise occupied at the present moment," Asura said softly, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. But she knew together, or even alone, the two northerners could easily defeat her. For they were far older than even the White Witch had been.

"We are not here for the Pevensie children," Elyon's voice was like a chilling mist, creeping over her body. "We seek our Queen. We feel the power of the White Witch stirring."

…..

Lucy caught up with them, panting, her hem trailing in the snow. They were not talking, but Lucy could see they were speaking, their eyes meeting briefly, a short nod. A flick of a wrist. Their bodies almost dancing as they twirled around each other, steel flashing in the sun, capes discarded over a nearby tree branch. Away from prying eyes they fought.

And they turned at exactly the same moment, weapons ready.

And Lucy froze, unsurprised that only the two of them had taken down Corradyn's castle. The Just King and the Ice Queen. A fitting pair – perfectly in tune with each other.

"The meeting is about to commence," she said softly, watching as they both visibly relaxed.

…..


End file.
